fc\KK£vK  K  K 


Klti 


THE 


NEW    NOBILITY 


A  STORY  OF  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 


BY 
JOHN    W.    FOKNEY. 


"  You  see  yon  birkie  ca'd  a  lord, 

Wha  struts,  and  stares,  and  a'  that, 
Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  word, 
He's  but  a  coof  for  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  riband,  star,  and  a1  that ; 
The  man  of  independent  mind, 

He  looks  and  laughs  at  a'  that. 
The  rank  is  but  the  guinea  stamp, 
The  man's  the  gowd  for  a1  that." 

BCENS. 


NEW   YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

1,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STKEET. 

1881. 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 

1881. 


PS 


NOTE. 


THE  whole  idea  and  scope  of  this  volume  are  my 
own — and  some  of  its  early  chapters ;  but  the  body 
of  the  book,  especially  the  middle  and  last  passages, 
is  the  work  of  my  gifted  personal  friend,  Kev.  Wil 
liam  M.  Baker,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts,  who  kind 
ly  responded  to  my  invitation  to  edit  and  finish  the 
"New  Nobility."  He  has  written  much  for  the  secu 
lar  press,  and  has  had  a  large  clientage  ;  but  I  think 
that  he  has  never  shown  more  talent  and  heart  than 
in  the  assistance  he  has  given  to  me  in  these  pages. 

J.  W.  F. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB-  PAGE 

I. — THE  WRATH  OF  THE  GODS  ....          5 

II. — MERELY  A  MECHANIC       .            .            ...  8 

III.— FAMILY  TRAITS          .            .            .            .  .11 

IV. — APOLOGY  .            .            .            .            .            .  13 

V. — THE  TROCADERO         .....         15 

VI. — EAEL  DORRINGTON            .            .            .            .  18 

VII. — FIRST  ACQUAINTANCE            .            .            .  .22 

"VIII. — THE  PARISIAN  PALACE  OF  PEACE           .            .  24 
IX. — THE  AMERICANS         .....        27 

X. — GEORGE  HARRIS  BREAKS  HIS  SILENCE    .            .  33 

XI. — AN  AMERICAN  EVANGEL       .            .            .  .39 

XII. — A  RETURN  TO  NATURE   ....  46 

XIII. — HASSAN  PASHA          .....        52 

XIV. — LOVE  FIFTY  YEARS  AGO             .            .            .  56 

XV. — BROTHER  AND  SISTER            .            .  •  .59 

XVI. — ISHBA  DHASS  GUNGA       ....  63 

XVII.— WOMAN  AS  A  SLAVE             .            .            .  .69 

XVIII. — IRRESISTIBLE  ATTRACTION            ...  74 

XIX.— THE  MARBLE  LIE                   .            .            .  .79 

XX. — THE  BIRTH  OF  ADVENTURE         ...  83 

XXI. — ISIDORE  ATCHISON,  ARTIST  .            .            .  .87 

XXII. — FATHER  AND  CHILD         ....  90 

XXIII. — COSMOPOLITAN  COMPANY      .            .            .  .95 

XXIV. — MATBONLY  SUGGESTION  ....  100 

XXV.— A  DESCENT    .            .            .            .            .  .103 

XXVI. — "THE  HAMMER  AN'  DOWN  wi'  'EM"      .            .  108 

XXVII.— YANKEE  ADVICE        .            .            .            .  .115 

XXVIII.— DIVINE  PATIENCE             ....  122 

XXIX.— AMERICAN  GIRLS        .            .            .            .  .127 

XXX.— HOP  FUN  .  134 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGH 

XXXI.— THE  ARTISTS  .  ...  .  .139 

XXXII.— THE  NEW  CHINESE       ....  146 

XXXIII.— A  CHINESE  EEPAST  .  .  .  .152 

XXXIV.— ALI  KHAN 159 

XXXV.— THE  NOBLE  DUKE  .  .  .  .  .166 

XXXVI.— THE  LOST  WIFE  ....  172 

XXXVII.— THE  FEMALE  PHILOSOPHER  .  .  .177 

XXXVIIL— THE  ANATOMIST  ....  183 

XXXIX.— THE  OLD  ARTIST    .  .  .  .  .188 

XL.— DANGEROUS  WAYS        .  .  .  .  193 

XLI. — ACHILLES  DESOHAEDS         .  .  .  .199 

XLII. — HERR  ZOODLEPLAUNTCH  »  .  .  203 

XLIII. — THE  PIRATE  OF  THE  PEN  ....      210 

XLI V.— IMPERIAL  LOVE  .  .  .  .  216 

XLV.— IN  PURSUIT  .  .  .  .  .222 

XLVI.— PERPLEXITY       .....  229 

XLVIL— THE  YOUNG  ARTIST  .  .  .  .235 

XL VIII.— THE  LAY  BROTHER       ....  242 

XLIX. — DILUTED  BLOOD      .....      248 

L. — CREATIVE  JOY  .....  254 

LI. — THE  YEARNINGS  OF  NATURE         .  .  .      258 

LII. — M.  PORTOU,  ANATOMIST  .  .  .  264 

LIII. — THE  ROMANCE  OF  RELIGION          .  .  .269 

LIV. — THE  INEVITABLE  ....  277 

LV. — ART  AND  HEART    .....      284 

LVI. — ST.  PETERSBURG  .  .    *  .  289 

LVII. — PRINCE  KALITZOFF  ....      295 

LVIII.— THE  DEPTHS     .  ....  301 

LIX.— INTO  PERIL  .....       308 

LX.— WOMAN'S  WIT  .  .  .  .  .  314 

LXI. — THE  CROWING  OF  THE  RED  COOK  .  .      318 

LXII. — THE  VOLTAIRE  AND  THE  CHBIST         .  .  325 

LXIII. — THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION        .  .      336 

LXIV. — TRANSITION        .  •    .  .  .  344 

LXV. — STRUGGLE    ......      350 

LXVI. — A  RUSSIAN  HOME         ....  356 

LXVIL— IN  PRISON  .  .  .  .  .362 

LXVIII.— RESCUE  .....  368 

LXIX. — DAWN  AGAIN          .....      375 

LXX.— TELEGRAM          .....  382 

LXXI.  —  CULMINATION  .  .  .  390 


THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    WRATH    OF   THE    GODS. 

THE  Middle  Railway  station  at  Brussels  is  very  like  all 
such  establishments  on  the  Continent.  Clean,  decorous,  and 
well  attended,  it  is  as  different  from  an  American  depot  as 
a  French  railway  carriage  is  from  an  American  railroad  car. 
There  is  a  bureau  where  you  buy  your  ticket,  another  where 
you  wait  for  your  luggage  until  you  have  seen  it  weighed, 
and  then  pay  for  it,  and  three  rooms  for  the  first,  second,  and 
third  class  passengers.  You  enter  the  one  answering  to  first 
class,  and  wait  till  the  train  that  is  to  carry  you  to  Paris  rolls 
into  the  large  and  well-lighted  station.  The  doors  of  the 
several  carriages  stand  wide  open  ;  you  select  and  secure  your 
seat,  then  look  around  to  study  human  life,  so  interesting  in 
this  foreign  multitude.  Brussels  is  a  lovely  city  at  all  times, 
with  its  parks,  galleries,  cathedral,  fountains,  boulevards, 
theatres,  and  factories  ;  but  on  this  beautiful  August  day 
it  was  specially  attractive,  and  there  was  an  unusual  bustle 
at  the  railway.  The  silver  wedding  of  King  Leopold  and 
Queen  Maria  had  just  been  celebrated  ;  and  the  last  of  three 
days  of  processions,  music,  banquets,  and  speeches,  all  the 
populace  taking  part,  had  closed  the  night  before  in  a  blaze 
of  illumination.  Thousands  of  foreigners  had  come  to  enjoy 
the  spectacle  ;  the  two  sovereigns  were  much  beloved,  and 
the  King  had  made  himself  particularly  agreeable  to  the  fac- 


6  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

tions  still  warring  upon  each  other  in  the  Legislature  and  the 
press. 

The  Middle  station  was  thronged  with  tourists,  and  addi 
tional  carriages  had  to  be  added  for  the  departing  visitors. 
The  guard  was  sounding  the  farewell  whistle,  and  closing 
the  doors  of  the  carriages,  when  two  men  bustled  into  the 
smoking  compartment  just  as  it  was  being  locked  for  the 
journey.  In  a  moment  the  last  signal  was  given,  and  the  long 
train  moved  toward  Paris  with  the  noiseless  ease  peculiar  to 
the  iron  roads  of  the  Continent.  It  was  a  lovely  morning. 
A  copious  rain  had  cooled  the  air  and  freshened  the  autumnal 
roses  which  poured  their  fragrance  into  the  open  windows. 
There  were  now  four  men  in  the  smoking  section  ;  two,  seated 
in  opposite  corners  when  the  others  came  in,  were  quietly 
enjoying  their  after-breakfast  cigars.  They  were  dressed 
for  the  journey  in  dark  colors,  and  it  would  have  been  diffi 
cult  to  decide  their  nationality.  They  might  be  French, 
German,  Prussian,  American,  even  English.  They  bore  the 
stamp  of  gentility,  and  they  resembled  each  other  closely 
enough  to  be  father  and  son.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the 
other  two,  as  they  lighted  their  cigars  and  began  an  animated 
conversation.  They  were  English  in  dress,  manner,  and  move 
ment,  and,  when  they  spoke,  the  dialect  was  unmistakable. 

"  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  woman,"  the  younger  ex 
claimed  to  his  companion,  "  never  a  more  perfect  style  and 
presence." 

"And  never  have  I  seen  you  so  carried  away.  She  is 
indeed  lovely.  Did  you  mark  her  voice  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  that  completed  the  charm.  She  was  not 
French,  not  Italian,  nor  German  ;  and,  although  she  spoke 
without  accent,  I  do  not  think  she  is  English." 

"  You  are  too  bold  ;  you  startled  me  ;  you  tried  to  enter 
the  compartment ;  and  I  was  amused  at  the  easy  dignity 
with  which  the  elder  lady  informed  you  that  the  coupe  was 
reserved." 

"  Yes,  that  was  admirably  done.  I  am  eager  to  find  out 
more  about  them." 


THE   WRATH  OF  THE  GODS.  7 

"  Do  you  know,  I  half  suspect  they  are  Americans  ?  " 

"  Impossible  !  What,  that  elegant  creature  the  product 
of  the  vain  and  vulgar  Yankee  race  ! " 

"  Come,  come,  old  man  ;  there  you  are  again  !  What 
have  the  Americans  done  that  you  should  be  so  unjust  to 
them  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  them  ;  and  I  never  meet  them 
that  I  do  not  feel  repelled.  My  disgust  is  instinctive.  You 
say  I  am  unjust ;  I  reply,  that  if  I  am,  I  can  not  help  it." 

"  Well,  I  do  not  care  to  dispute  the  point ;  but  I  predict 
that  you  will  live  to  repent  your  hasty  judgment." 

The  younger  Englishman,  and  the  most  impulsive,  turned 
to  the  two  other  men  in  the  smoking  section,  who  were  quiet 
listeners,  and  as  if  he  expected,  or  rather  exacted,  their  ap 
proval,  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  You  have  heard  this  discussion.  Am  I  not  right  about 
these  Yankees  ?  " 

It  was  a  blunder,  made  worse  by  the  characteristic  Eng 
lish  insouciance  of  the  question  ;  and  both  the  silent  stran 
gers  started  as  if  the  question  had  been  a  blow.  After  a 
brief  silence  the  elder — who  had  laid  a  firm  grasp  upon  the 
shoulder  of  his  companion  as  if  to  hold  him  down — threw 
his  cigar  out  of  the  window,  and  said,  in  a  low  and  severe 
voice : 

"  I  am  an  American  ;  and  I  will  add  that,  if  I  thought 
you  had  known  it,  I  should  have  resented  your  insolence  at 
once." 

"  What,  sir,  my  insolence  !  "  said  the  Englishman,  quick 
ly  rising  in  his  seat ;  at  which  the  younger  American  stood 
up  as  if  to  defend  his  father — for  so  indeed  he  was. 

"Yes,"  said  the  elder,  as  he  sternly  motioned  his  son  to 
silence  and  his  seat.  "  Yes,  your  insolence.  I  have  been 
forced  to  listen  to  your  abuse  of  my  country  ;  and  I  should 
have  treated  you  with  the  contempt  you  deserve,  if  you  had 
not  asked  me  to  endorse  your  language.  But  now  I  almost 
thank  you,  and  in  return  I  will  give  you  a  little  gratuitous 
advice.  Be  sure,  as  you  grow  older,  to  think  twice  before 


8  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

you  attempt  to  air  your  prejudices  in  the  presence  of  others. 
My  country  people  are  full  of  faults,  and  have  much  to  learn 
from  others  ;  but  the  last  school  I  would  advise  them  to 
study  in  is  the  society  of  the  English,  of  which  you  seem  to 
be  a  very  fair  specimen." 

These  words  were  spoken  deliberately,  in  a  cool,  culti 
vated  voice.  The  American  was  angry,  but  collected  and 
dignified.  He  looked  like  a  man  of  character,  and  as  the 
clear,  incisive  sentences  fell  from  his  lips  he  gazed  steadily 
into  the  Englishman's  face,  who,  on  his  part,  turned  upon 
him  a  fiery  and  astonished  stare  ;  but,  before  he  had  time  to 
recover  himself,  the  long  train  stopped  at  the  busy  railroad 
town  of  Mons,  the  most  important  station  after  leaving 
Brussels,  where  there  are  two  trains  for  Paris,  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  distant.  The  doors  of  all  the  carriages 
were  unlocked  and  thrown  wide  open,  as  is  customary,  to 
allow  the  passengers  to  alight,  and  the  four  men  found  them 
selves  descending  to  the  level  platform  of  the  Flemish  sta 
tion  in  silence.  While  the  two  Englishmen  were  smarting 
under  the  strong  language  of  the  American,  the  latter,  taking 
his  son  by  the  arm,  quietly  walked  into  the  carriage  in  which 
the  two  ladies  were  seated  who  were  the  innocent  causes  of 
the  explosion.  The  Englishmen  saw  their  unpleasant  dilemma 
at  a  glance  ;  and  they  had  no  time  to  recover  from  their  new 
surprise,  when  they  were  hurried  back  to  the  smoker's  re 
treat,  as  the  train  moved  off  on  the  route  by  Traumont,  Com- 
piegne,  and  Creil,  to  the  gay  capital  of  the  French  republic. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MERELY    A    MECHANIC. 


GEORGE  HARRIS  was  born  in  one  of  the  oldest  of  the 
American  States,  Pennsylvania,  on  the  30th  of  September, 
1817,  and  was  nearly  sixty-one  at  the  opening  of  our  story. 


MERELY  A   MECHANIC.  9 

Trained  in  the  common  schools  under  the  great  system  in 
stituted  by  Thaddeus  Stevens  and  George  Wolf,  afterward 
perfected  in  the  Philadelphia  High  School  by  men  like  Alex 
ander  Dallas  Bache  and  John  Sanderson,  he  was  a  black 
smith's  apprentice  before  fifteen,  and  the  owner  of  a  little 
shop  in  old  Spring  Garden  before  he  was  nineteen.  He  was 
a  good  workman  and  a  close  student,  and  his  intelligence 
and  ingenuity  soon  attracted  attention  ;  he  had  no  rich 
friends,  but  he  was  a  careful  reader  of  the  busy  world  around 
him.  His  forge  and  anvil  were  his  college ;  and  the  little 
he  had  gathered  at  school  prepared  him  for  the  great  future 
which  accident  opened  to  his  young  ambition. 

One  of  the  dreams  of  these  early  days  was  the  beautiful 
vision  to  which  in  after-life  he  gave  practical  expression.  It 
was  the  legend  of  the  "  Iron  Worker."  When  Solomon's 
Temple  was  about  to  be  opened,  the  blacksmith,  finding  him 
self  omitted  from  the  invited  guests,  boldly  marched  into  the 
temple  just  from  the  forge,  and  taking  the  king's  own  seat, 
insisted  that,  since  it  was  he  who  had  made  the  tools  with 
which  the  builders  wrought,  without  him  the  splendid  dome 
had  never  been  constructed.  King  Solomon  heard  the  ap 
peal,  and  the  blacksmith  sat  by  his  side  at  the  royal  feast. 

When  young  Harris  was  pushing  himself  into  business, 
full  of  health  and  vigor,  he  was  unexpectedly  called  upon 
by  an  agent  of  the  Russian  Government,  who  had  been  re 
ferred  to  the  ambitious  and  skillful  mechanic,  and  invited  to 
visit  St.  Petersburg,  to  undertake  the  equipment  of  a  great 
Russian  railroad  ;  to  construct  machine-shops,  to  build  loco 
motives  and  carriages,  and  to  educate  in  skilled  labor  the 
youth  of  the  Empire  who  might  be  the  leaders  of  the  next 
generation. 

It  was  an  unexpected  call,  and  yet  the  High  School  boy 
found  himself  equal  to  the  new  responsibilities  ;  he  gathered 
around  him  men  of  capital  by  his  brains,  and  his  frankness 
won  mechanics  like  himself.  He  called  them  in  from  other 
cities  and  States,  and  by  his  energy  and  intelligence  pleased 
his  royal  employer,  improved  his  own  fortunes,  and  made  a 


10  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

name  for  high  credit  and  integrity,  which  was  freely  awarded 
to  all  his  associates.  His  organization  was  in  a  few  years 
one  of  the  most  effective  in  Europe,  the  model  for  many 
others. 

Russian  and  American  diplomacy  have  had  a  long  and 
congenial  relationship  ;  and  nothing  is  more  interesting  than 
that  the  two  great  antipodean  systems  should  have  come  so 
near  together.  The  Continent,  given  up  to  absolutism  on 
one  side  of  the  globe,  has  gravitated  to  the  republicanism  of 
the  Continent  at  the  other.  Peter  the  Great,  the  anonymous 
Muscovite  shipbuilder,  who  traversed  Europe,  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  as  a  common  laborer,  was 
only  the  antitype  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  the  American  print 
er,  who  traversed  the  other  end  of  the  same  planet  at  the 
close  of  the  same  century.  Each  had  his  mission  and  each 
executed  it. 

When  George  Harris  and  his  assistants  left  the  United 
States  for  St.  Petersburg  they  had  rare  advantages.  The 
workers  in  iron  in  the  first  century  of  American  indepen 
dence,  from  Franklin,  with  the  key  that  attracted  and  directed 
the  lightning,  to  Fulton,  Fitch,  Watt,  Arkwright,  Stephen- 
son,  Siemens,  Edison,  and 'others,  have  been  the  pioneers 
of  a  destiny  that  is  a  religion  in  itself,  the  missionaries  of  a 
new  and  powerful  evangelism. 

By  a  strange  coincidence  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  seems 
to  have  supplied  most  of  the  American  ministers  to  Russia, 
and  most  of  the  builders  of  Russian  railroads  and  Russian 
ships.  Since  1814,  of  the  forty-nine  ministers  and  secretaries 
of  legation  appointed  by  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
twelve  have  been  citizens  of  Pennsylvania.  The  presence  of 
such  citizens  at  the  proud  court  of  the  Russian  Czar  as  Wil 
liam  Wilkins,  James  Buchanan,  George  M.  Dallas,  Andrew 
G.  Curtin,  George  H.  Boker,  and  Bayard  Taylor  undoubt 
edly  prepared  the  way  for  the  skilled  mechanics,  manufactur 
ers,  and  shipwrights  who  were  called  from  the  same  State 
to  the  Russian  capital  by  the  successive  emperors  of  that 
great  autocracy. 


FAMILY  TRAITS.  11 

CHAPTER  III. 

FAMILY     TRAITS. 

ALL  genuine  women  grow  into  manners  ;  society  is  their 
true  school ;  imitation  is  their  final  finish.  They  carefully 
copy  the  rare  styles,  sunned  and  ripened  by  the  ages.  The 
quickness  of  female  intuition  is  an  inspiration.  How  magi 
cal  their  skill  in  colors,  in  costume,  furniture,  flowers,  and 
music  !  How  refined  and  rapid  their  perception  of  the 
right  tone  of  the  voice,  the  best  pose  of  the  body,  the  sweet 
est  expression  ;  and  when  their  natural  gifts  are  turned  to 
books,  and  the  young  mother  teaches  herself  and  trains  her 
child  at  the  same  time  not  only  the  finest  manners  but  the 
best  morals,  there  is  nothing  more  enchanting  ! 

Such  was  Margaret  Harris,  the  wife  of  George  Harris, 
when  she  was  seated  with  her  daughter  in  the  railway  car 
riage  at  Brussels.  Ten  years  younger  than  her  husband,  her 
daughter  was  born  in  St.  Petersburg  nineteen  years  before, 
having  twice  visited  the  United  States  with  her  parents  and 
her  brother,  the  last  time  during  the  Centennial  Exhibition 
of  1876. 

If  there  was  a  close  resemblance  between  George  Harris 
and  his  daughter  Mary,  and  this  although  the  father  was  as 
rugged  in  appearance  as  the  daughter  was  beautiful,  in  her 
his  strength  had  refined  itself  into  loveliness,  but  it  remained 
strength  all  the  more.  There  was  nothing  between  mother 
and  daughter  to  show  their  relationship  except  the  voice  ; 
and  by  that  organ  the  family  could  be  traced.  Nature  is  in 
nothing  more  cunning  than  in  the  magic  music  of  the  human 
tongue.  One  may  lose  the  trace  of  a  face,  the  years  that 
have  surged  between  the  outposts  of  youth  and  age  have 
utterly  changed  the  features,  and  you  have  stood  wondering 
before  the  stranger  till  the  old,  unf orgotten  tones  recalled  the 
friend  as  if  from  the  grave  of  the  past. 

So,  when  you  heard  Mary  Harris,  you  also  heard  her 
mother  and  her  brother.  If  Longfellow  could  have  listened 


12  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

to  her  voice,  he  could  have  more  truly  written  that  "  The 
intellect  sits  enthroned  on  the  forehead  and  in  the  eye  ;  and 
the  heart  is  written  in  the  countenance.  The  soul  reveals 
itself  in  the  voice  only." 

Taller  than  her  .mother,  and  lighter,  she  had  the  startling 
beauty  that  comes  with  golden  hair  and  dark  eyes,  and  when 
she  spoke  you  thrilled  at  the  sweetness  and  depth  of  her 
voice.  Its  clear  metallic  ring  was  like  a  challenge,  and  there 
was  an  invisible  echo  (if  I  may  be  pardoned  the  paradox) 
like  the  sound  that  follows  a  melodious  bell.  Her  tone  at 
first  seemed  a  defiance  when  she  answered  you  ;  but  it  was 
only  the  consciousness  of  perfect  innocence,  and  the  mastery 
of  a  pure  woman  over  herself.  Fond  of  her  mother  and  her 
brother,  she  was  very  proud  of  her  father.  She  cherished 
her  mother,  but  she  had  a  possession  in  her  father  ;  at  once 
a  property,  a  partnership,  and  a  worship.  His  views  of  men 
and  things  were  hers,  and  he  was  equally  her  teacher,  her 
protector,  and  her  guardian.  Educated,  if  not  by  him,  at 
least  under  his  eye,  nothing  aided  him  more  than  her  literary 
excellence,  her  knowledge  of  languages,  her  grace  in  society, 
and  her  precious  good  sense ;  and  the  world  at  first  regarded 
her  more  self-willed  than  sentimental. 

But  at  last,  much  the  strongest  resemblance  was  that 
between  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  and  her  son,  in  personal  like 
ness,  because  in  identity  of  character.  That  identity  lay  in 
the  common  sense  ;  common,  at  least,  to  these  two. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  dispute  in  the  carriage  with  the  Eng 
lishman,  because  it  seems  to  have  disturbed  your  father," 
said  Mrs.  Harris  to  her  daughter,  the  morning  after  their 
return  from  Brussels,  as  they  sat  together  in  their  Paris 
apartments  at  the  Hotel  Bristol. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  it  was  awkward,  but  I  can  quite 
understand  my  father's  anger.  It  was  impertinent  on  the 
part  of  the  stranger.  But  then  it  was  very  like  some  of  the 
English.  There  is  nothing  upon  which  he  is  so  sensitive 
as  an  attack  upon  his  country." 

"  But  he  is  usually  so  prudent,  and  he  specially  dislikes 


APOLOGY.  13 

anything  like  a  scene.  I  wonder  what  the  exact  cause  of 
the  altercation  could  have  been  ?  " 

"  And  I  have  asked  Henry,  but  my  brother  is  as  reserved 
as  my  father." 

It  would  have  been  easy  to  satisfy  her  curiosity,  but 
George  Harris  was  not  sorry  to  let  the  matter  drop,  although 
he  could  not  help  thinking  about  it  a  great  deal. 

As  to  the  son,  he  was  this  much  like  his  mother  that, 
when  he  evaded  explanation,  every  one  felt  with  him  that 
the  matter  was  of  importance,  and  that  he  had  not  as  yet 
accomplished  his  purpose,  whatever  it  was  in  regard  to  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

APOLOGY. 

THE  splendors  of  the  foreign  embassies  in  Paris  have  not 
been  lessened  by  the  successes  of  the  Republic.  But  the 
English  Legation,  the  German  Legation,  the  Italian  and 
Russian  Legations,  the  Chinese  and  Turkish  Legations,  are 
far  more  palatial  than  the  humble  offices  of  the  American 
Minister.  Paris,  like  London,  is  a  diplomatic  center,  and 
the  rival  movements  of  Russia  and  England  are  as  keenly 
conducted  and  as  vigilantly  watched  as  they  are  in  St.  Peters 
burg  and  London.  It  was  a  day  reception  at  the  Russian 
Minister's.  The  Grand  Duke  Alexis  had  come  over  to  see 
the  Exhibition  ;  and  the  imperial  droschka,  with  three  fine 
steeds  abreast,  had  been  a  new  attraction  to  the  cosmo 
politan  pleasure-seekers,  as  it  sped  out  of  the  great  horse- 
show  on  the  broad  boulevards  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Seine,  and  dashed  up  to  the  embassy.  Crowds  were  pour 
ing  into  the  gates  of  the  Minister's  hotel,  and  he  stood  in  his 
gilded  saloon  to  welcome  his  guests.  The  handsome  prince 
had  just  alighted  from  his  Cossack  chariot  as  George  Harris, 
his  wife,  daughter,  and  son  were  ascending  the  flowery  stairs 


14  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

leading  to  the  drawing-room  of  the  Legation.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  graceful  than  the  recognition  of  the 
Americans  by  the  Grand  Duke.  That  lovely  day  shone 
down  on  no  lovelier  creature  than  Mary  Harris  ;  nor  in  that 
brilliant  throng  was  there  a  more  pleasing  sight  than  the 
family  of  the  cultivated  American.  All  nations  were  repre 
sented  in  their  beauty,  wealth,  and  learning,  and  in  their 
highest  rank.  The  Prince  of  Wales  was  present  with  his 
retinue  on  his  fortnightly  visit  to  Paris,  and,  together  with 
the  royalties  of  other  powers,  had  come  to  the  Russian  levee. 
To  these  were  joined  all  the  ministers  of  the  French  republic 
and  the  representatives  of  the  other  powers.  After  due 
homage  to  the  Russian  Minister  by  Mr.  Harris  and  his  fam 
ily,  and  as  he  was  conversing  with  other  Russian  friends, 
and  his  wife  and  daughter  were  engaging  their  American 
acquaintances,  the  rare  charms  of  Mary  Harris  attracting 
universal  admiration,  a  well-known  English  diplomatist  ap 
proached  George  Harris  and  addressed  him  with  easy  famili 
arity.  They  had  met  in  Washington  during  the  Rebellion, 
while  Lord  Lyons  was  the  British  Minister,  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Seward,  the  American  Secretary  of  State,  who  held  Mr.  Harris 
high  in  esteem,  and  they  had  frequent  subsequent  interviews. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  kindness.  Some  days  ago  you  had 
a  dispute  with  a  young  countryman  of  mine  in  a  railway  car 
riage  on  the  way  from  Brussels,  and  this  is  the  first  time  he 
has  seen  you  since.  He  is  here  this  morning,  and  asks  to  be 
presented  to  you,  that  he  may  apologize  for  his  part  in  the 
affair  "  ;  and  the  envoy  waited  for  the  reply. 

"  It  was  a  hasty  and  awkward  difference,"  said  Mr.  Har 
ris  ;  "  and  I  am  almost  sorry  myself  for  my  own  impatience 
with  the  young  man." 

"  Then  I  feel  that  I  am  not  mistaken  in  your  good  na 
ture,"  the  diplomatist  responded,  as  he  beckoned  to  the 
young  Englishman  of  the  smoking  compartment,  who  quickly 
advanced,  and  the  envoy  spoke  : 

"I  am  glad  to  make  you  better  acquainted  with  Lord 
Conyngham,  Mr.  Harris." 


THE  TROCADEBO.  15 

And  the  two  men  shook  hands,  the  handsome  nobleman 
remarking : 

"  And  I  beg  you,  Mr.  Harris,  to  accept  my  thanks  and 
my  apology  at  the  same  time.  You  treated  me  as  I  deserved, 
and  taught  me  a  lesson  that  will  last  a  lifetime." 

"  Let  me  reciprocate  your  frankness  at  least.  If  my  ad 
vice  proves  to  be  so  useful,  I  am  not  sorry  for  the  necessity 
that  made  me  offer  it." 

And  with  some  more  words  the  young  nobleman  lifted 
his  hat  and  stepped  aside,  but  soon  returned  with  a  lady  on 
his  arm,  who  laughingly  greeted  the  other  Englishman. 

"  This  is  my  sister,  Lady  Blanche,  Mr.  Harris,  who  must 
be  my  intercessor  with  your  wife  and  daughter,  to  make  my 
forgiveness  complete." 

It  was  so  quickly  and  gracefully  done  that  the  lady  was 
almost  instantly  introduced  to  the  two  American  women  who 
stood  close  to  her  ;  and  it  took  only  a  few  minutes  to  include 
Henry  Harris  in  the  general  reconciliation. 

Even  the  British  statesman,  who  had  been  in  diplomacy 
nearly  forty  years — had  served  in  Greece,  Italy,  America, 
Turkey,  and  France — never  witnessed  a  more  interesting 
scene  as  he  watched  these  pleasant  courtesies,  and  certainly 
never  saw  two  more  charming  or  more  charmingly  contrasted 
characters  than  these  two  lovely  girls,  Mary  Harris  and 
Blanche  Conyngham ;  and  the  elegant  courtier,  as  he  left 
the  new  friends  laughing  and  chatting,  quietly  whispered  to 
Lord  Conyngham,  "  Has  she  come  at  last  ?  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    TROCADEBO. 


BLANCHE  CONYNGHAM  was  more  than  an  English  girl  of 
fashion.  The  only  daughter  of  a  peer  of  the  realm,  and  sis 
ter  of  the  heir  to  a  large  estate,  she  was  as  unspoiled  as  if 


16  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

she  had  been  reared  in  a  lower  sphere.  She  was  fortunate 
in  the  rare  gift  of  unconscious  beauty,  and  when  she  met 
Mary  Harris  and  her  mother  she  captivated  them  by  the 
honesty  of  her  manner  and  the  candor  of  her  conversation. 
To  say  that  she  was  pleased  with  them  was  to  repeat  what 
all  others  said  who  first  met  these  superior  women.  The 
three  rode  to  the  Exhibition  in  the  same  carriage,  leaving 
the  three  men  to  follow  ;  and  they  had  a  little  feminine  talk 
as  they  rolled  up  to  the  main  door  of  the  Trocadero  ;  but 
they  were  meanwhile  silently  occupied  in  a  mutual  and  wo 
manly  inventory  of  each  other. 

"  You  are  not  strangers  in  Europe,  that  is  easily  seen," 
said  Lady  Blanche. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Margaret  Harris  ;  "  I  have  been  a  long 
time  abroad,  and  my  daughter  was  born  in  Russia." 

"  I  have  never  seen  your  vast  country,  but  I  read  about 
it  a  great  deal ;  indeed,  I  think  about  it  every  day.  Do 
you  return  soon  ?  " 

"  Next  year,  and  for  good.  This  is  our  last  visit  to  Paris, 
and  I  feel  a  little  sad  at  leaving  familiar  scenes  and  dear 
friends." 

"  But  then  we  have  a  home  awaiting  us,  and  many  who 
long  for  our  coming,"  said  Mary  Harris. 

As  Blanche  looked  at  her,  a  new  light  filled  her  eyes,  and 
the  rich  voice  of  the  American  girl  touched  her  heart.  Mary 
studied  the  bright  English  face  opposite  with  a  sweet 
smile. 

The  crowd  was  hastening  along  the  broad  vestibule  of 
the  fantastic  temple,  and  strains  of  music  poured  through 
the  wide  edifice,  while  the  silvery  waters  dashed  ever  the 
broad  steps  under  the  towering  fountains  with  their  gigan 
tic  figures,  and  from  the  sweeping  balconies  of  the  Trocadero 
you  saw  the  animated  perspective  leading  to  the  main  temple 
of  the  Exposition.  As  the  ladies  descended  from  the  chariot, 
they  found  Lord  Conyngham,  George  Harris,  and  his  son 
already  arrived  to  receive  them.  Naturally  the  young  noble 
man  walked  with  Mary,  Blanche  and  the  others  following 


THE  TROCAD£RO.  17 

down  the  broad  stair  to  the  great  highway  over  the  bridge 
across  the  Seine. 

"  These  World's  Fairs  are  schools,  not  shows,  to  me,  and 
they  always  give  me  rather  saddening  reflections.  There  is 
so  much  to  see  and  to  think  of,  that  I  tire  at  my  own  in 
capacity,"  were  the  first  words  of  the  young  man  to  Mary. 

"  Yes,  I  can  quite  understand,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  always 
take  refuge  in  gratitude  to  God  that  all  these  wonderful 
things  were  made  by  his  creatures,  and  so  are  a  kind  of 
worship  of  him." 

"  I  never  heard  such  a  view  of  the  Exposition  ;  but  it 
is  very  true,"  was  all  the  other  could  say. 

"Is  it  not  the  right  view?"  she  asked  modestly  ;  "how 
much  better  these  modern  manifestations  of  the  industry 
and  skill,  the  science  and  genius  of  our  men  and  women, 
than  the  preparations  for  conquest  and  war  !  They  seem  to 
me  to  mark  the  contrast  between  the  past  and  the  present." 

This  was  so  different  from  what  he  had  expected,  and  so 
different  from  what  he  had  been  accustomed  to,  that  Lord 
Conyngham  could  only  look  and  listen.  At  last  he  said  : 

"I  do  not  think  our  English  women  reflect  so  deeply  as 
you  do,  and  indeed  I  have  not  heard  those  of  your  country 
speak  like  you  ;  but  it  is  very  agreeable." 

Mary  made  no  reply,  but,  looking  back,  she  said  to 
Blanche  : 

"  Lady  Blanche,  you  must  rescue  me  from  your  brother. 
I  frighten  him  by  my  sermon,  and  then  he  flatters  me.  Is 
that  his  way  ?  " 

"  My  brother  is  not  easily  frightened,  and,  like  most 
Englishmen,  not  much  given  to  compliments,  but  I  think 
you  have  been  surprising  him.  What  is  it,  Alfred  ?  " 

"  Only  this  :  Miss  Harris  has  been  giving  me  a  new  cause 
of  the  good  wrought  by  these  World's  Fairs." 

"  I  am  neither  philosopher  nor  prophet ;  but  nothing," 
Mary  added,  "  overcomes  me  as  a  woman  more  than  these 
evidences  of  human  improvement,  as  I  see  them  in  such 
places,  and  I  can  not  help  thinking  that  when  our  fellow- 


18  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

creatures  show  such  great  powers,  they  are  new  witnesses  of 
the  greatness  of  God.  It  can  mean  nothing  else." 

"  Mary  was  curiously  affected  at  Philadelphia  two  years 
ago,"  said  her  father,  joining  the  group.  "  When  she  first 
saw  the  Corliss  engine  in  the  American  Exhibition,  she  said 
it  overcame  her  like  the  sermon  of  an  eloquent  preacher, 
and  I  confess  it  impressed  me  the  same  way." 

"  Now,  father  dear,  we  will  change  the  subject,  if  you 
please.  May  I  not  ask  you  to  show  me  the  English  pictures, 
Lord  Conyngham  ?  There  is  one  Turner  that  you  must  ex 
plain.  It  is  quite  beyond  me." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EARL    DORRINGTON. 

EAEL  DORRINGTON,  the  father  of  the  young  Lord  Con 
yngham,  had  a  weakness  for  Paris,  and  belonged  to  that 
large  class  of  Englishmen  who  always  seek  the  Continent  in 
November.  He  was  so  much  attached  to  Nice  and  the 
South  of  France  that,  with  his  long  absences  there  and  in 
the  gay  French  capital,  he  was  almost  a  stranger  in  his  own 
ancient  halls.  He  took  little  or  no  interest  in  public  affairs, 
was  rarely  seen  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  beyond  a  sort 
of  idolatry  for  his  daughter  Blanche,  lived  in  and  loved  the 
world  that  had  always  treated  him  as  one  of  its  spoiled 
darlings.  He  was  not  yet  sixty,  and  there  were  few  hand 
somer  men,  and  none  more  blameless  or  gentle.  He  was  a 
sincere  aristocrat,  and  inherited  as  a  part  of  his  family 
religion  a  firm  conviction  of  the  inferiority  of  the  common 
people.  Of  his  own  purity  and  perfection  he  was  so  sure 
that  he  felt  no  pride  in  them.  They  were  a  sort  of  property 
as  inseparable  to  himself  as  his  hands  or  his  head.  He  no 
more  doubted  that  he  was  placed  apart  from  those  not 
well  born  than  he  did  that  his  valet  and  his  butler  were 


EARL  DORRINGTON.  19 

created  only  to  wait  upon  him.  His  daughter  was  his 
prime  minister,  and  although  all  his  generosity  was  vica 
rious,  the  world  believed  that  the  luxurious  Earl  was  lib 
eral  or  benevolent  on  his  own  motion.  But  Blanche  was 
his  almoner.  She  had  large  sympathies  and  quick  percep 
tions,  and  freely  indulged  them,  and  as  she  accompanied  her 
father  in  most  of  his  travels,  and  wrote  his  name  in  all  her 
charities,  generally  without  consulting  him,  he  had  an  un 
deserved  reputation  for  good  deeds  not  his  own  ;  nor  did  his 
languid  manner  stand  with  the  public  as  a  contradiction  to 
his  registered  charities.  He  was  too  well  bred  for  contro 
versy.  He  accepted  Blanche  as  the  most  perfect  of  her  sex 
— his  wife  having  died  when  Blanche  was  born — and  he 
rarely  questioned  her  actions.  The  Earl  and  his  children,  as 
he  called  them,  had  the  best  quarters  in  the  old  Hotel  Meu- 
rice,  on  the  Rue  Rivoli,  now  richly  renovated,  and  as  they 
only  met  at  dinner  in  their  superb  private  parlor,  that  was 
the  occasion  for  the  report  of  the  day.  They  were  not  often 
alone  at  that  hour.  Their  English  and  foreign  acquaintance 
was  large,  and  when  they  were  not  engaged  with  others  they 
had  invited  guests  of  their  own.  The  luxury  of  the  rich 
English  nobility  is  nowhere  more  lavish  than  while  they  are 
in  Paris.  They  enjoy  life  in  a  quiet  and  costly  exclusive- 
ness,  and  if  one  were  to  attempt  to  describe  what  is  known  of 
their  outlays,  one  might  fear  to  be  misunderstood.  A  few  of 
the  wealthy  commoners  go  beyond  them,  but,  as  the  titled 
British  families  are  nearly  all  very  rich,  they  live  lives  of 
almost  fabulous  extravagance,  and  when  they  settle  down 
for  a  season  in  Paris  their  expenditure  is  boundless.  The 
English  nobility  as  a  rule  have  large  estates  and  incomes, 
and  Earl  Dorrington  was  one  of  the  most  fortunate. 

He  was  first  in  the  drawing-room,  waiting,  in  full  dress, 
for  his  son  and  daughter,  who  had  given  the  day  to  the  Rus 
sian  reception  and  the  Exposition  Universelle,  and  as  he  sat 
looking  over  "  The  Times  "  we  will  take  his  photograph.  He 
was,  as  has  been  said,  a  man  of  sixty,  with  iron-gray  hair  and 
short  whiskers,  a  face  without  a  moustache,  and  that  quiet- 


20  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ude  which  comes  of  inherited  independence  and  comfort. 
Tall,  like  his  son  Alfred,  the  young  lord,  he  had  less  of  the 
affronting  self-assertion  of  the  latter,  and  more  of  the  win 
ning  air  of  his  daughter.  Men  who  do  not  work  themselves, 
and  have  others  to  work  for  them  and  attend  to  their  slight 
est  wish,  fall  insensibly  into  a  contempt  for  others.  Such 
men  are  an  intrusion,  and  worse,  to  sensitive  minds,  and  the 
more  so  because  patricians  such  as  these  come  at  last  to  a 
conviction  that  they  own  what  they  never  deserved.  But 
the  Earl  had  a  gift  of  hiding  this  trait,  and  rather  won  upon 
those  who  disliked  it  in  others.  There  were  no  guests  to 
day,  and  he  waited  pleasantly  for  the  entrance  of  his  son 
and  daughter,  and  greeted  them  warmly  as  they  came  in 
from  opposite  doors.  Certainly  they  were  a  handsome  pair. 
The  young  lord  had  his  father's  height,  and  as  he  stood 
forth  in  his  black  costume  and  white  cravat,  his  long,  shapely 
English  limbs,  and  his  fine  head  rising  from  his  broad 
shoulders,  his  striking  face  laughed  in  the  consciousness  of 
perfect  self -enjoyment.  Blanche  looked  like  him  ;  but,  in 
her  delicate  blue  dress,  a  deep-blush  autumn  rose  in  her  hair, 
her  small,  white,  unjeweled  hands,  a  bright  solitaire  in  each 
delicate,  shell-like  ear,  and  her  sweet  face  all  aglow,  she  was 
rather  a  contrast  than  a  comparison.  Her  father  saluted  her 
with  his  best  grace,  and  led  her,  like  a  knight  of  the  olden 
time,  to  her  appropriate  place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  seat 
ing  himself  opposite  his  son. 

"  And  what  of  the  day,  sweetheart  ?  "  was  his  first  greet 
ing  as  he  took  his  sherry  and  declined  the  soup.  "  You  have 
had  heavenly  weather  for  your  ride.  Pray  tell  me  all  the 
good^things  you  have  seen  ?  " 

"  First  of  all,  papa  dear,  I  have  seen  a  charming  Ameri 
can  ;  and  so  has  Alfred ;  and  we  are  both  in  love,  if  you 
please." 

"  What,  at  first  sight  ?  An  American — and  what  is  his 
name  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  lady,  your  lordship,  and  although  this  is  my  first 
look,  my  brother  is  more  fortunate." 


EARL  DOBRINGTON.  21 

Needless  to  say  that  the  Earl  knew  nothing  of  the  ad 
venture  on  the  rail,  and  he  replied,  with  very  little  curiosity 
in  his  tone  : 

"  One  meets  all  the  world  in  Paris,  yet  it  is  not  necessary 
to  fall  in  love  with  it,  even  at  second  sight.  The  Americans 
are  always  demonstrative  ;  I  prefer  to  read  about  them." 

"  Then,  dear  papa,  these  are  exceptions.  They  are  almost 
as  composed  as  if  they  were  great  people,  like  the  English  ; 
and,  you  know,  we  are  the  greatest  on  the  round  globe.  At 
least,  that  is  your  opinion." 

Then  Alfred  spoke  to  the  Earl : 

"  These  strangers  have  interested  me.  They  are  a  better 
strain  than  I  have  been  accustomed  to.  They  are  quiet,  ac 
complished,  wealthy,  and  gentle,  and  the  father  has  a  sort 
of  English  pride  of  country  ;  the  mother  is  very  well  poised, 
and  the  daughter  is  an  angel." 

"  I  never  hear,"  the  Earl  said  in  reply,  "  of  an  American's 
pride  of  country  without  a  smile.  As  I  never  dispute,  es 
pecially  with  strangers,  I  listen  to  and  wonder  at  the  Ameri 
cans.  They  have  no  past ;  no  great  families  ;  no  great  lead 
ers  ;  no  literature,  and  no  gifts  of  governing  ;  and  no  mat 
ter  how  well-bred  or  educated,  they  amount  to  nothing.  They 
are  the  green  fruit  of  the  orchard.  The  world  must  be  con 
trolled  by  educated  experience.  All  experiments  are  tempo 
rary.  Mankind  was  born  to  be  managed  by  the  ripe  minds. 
It  was  so  in  the  Pagan  eras  ;  it  is  so  to-day  ;  it  will  be  so  to 
the  end  ;  and  America  is  only  an  accident,  and  accidents  are 
sudden  and  suddenly  perish.  We  may  improve  by  the  acci 
dent  of  its  existence,  but  we  shall  survive  and  dominate." 

Such  was  the  school  of  Lady  Blanche  and  Lord  Conyng- 
ham.  They  talked  for  a  long  time  over  their  elaborate  din 
ner,  and  this  was  all  that  was  said  about  the  Americans  ;  but 
Mary  Harris  was  not  one  soon  to  be  forgotten  by  the  young 
nobleman. 


22  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

FIRST    ACQUAINTANCE. 

GEOKGE  HARRIS  and  his  wife  and  children  regarded  Lord 
Conyngham  and  Lady  Blanche  with  interest.  The  father 
was  impressed  by  the  manly  deportment  of  the  young  lord, 
and  Mary  Harris  was  pleased  with  Lady  Blanche.  Mrs. 
Harris  saw  more  than  the  rest,  and  Henry,  her  son,  like 
most  brothers,  only  regarded  Conyngham  as  a  very  well- 
bred  snob,  without  once  thinking  that  his  sister  was  the 
magnet. 

George  Harris  quietly  observed  : 

"The  young  lord  is  a  type  of  his  class — a  very  large, 
and,  I  fear,  an  increasing  class,  the  chief  ingredient  of 
which  is  the  conviction  that  other  men  are  born  to  contri 
bute  to  their  wants  and  luxuries.  These  people  can  not  un 
derstand  mankind.  Not  to  know  is  born  in  them.  I  do 
not  complain  ;  it  is  their  destiny.  Nor  do  I  expect  them  to 
like  the  United  States.  If  I  had  been  spoiled  as  they  have 
been  ;  if  my  ancestors,  instead  of  honest,  hard-working  peo 
ple,  had  been  raised  to  give  command,  to  obey  nothing  but 
their  own  instincts,  and  to  expect  all  below  them  to  fawn 
and  flatter,  I  should  to-day  be  as  much  in  love  with  myself 
and  as  fond  of  thinking  others  my  inferiors  as  these  simple 
moles,  the  amusing  drones  of  the  British  nobility.  You  can 
not  expect  an  eagle  from  the  nest  of  a  peacock.  Like  makes 
like." 

"But,  father,"  said  Mary  with  beautiful  animation,  "do 
you  not  think  that  the  daughter  Blanche  is  the  exception 
that  proves  the  rule  ?  She  seems  a  different  sort." 

"  And  so  she  does.  I  was  quite  pleased  with  her  naivete. 
She  has  courage  too,  and  talks  sometimes  as  if  she  knew 
more  than  she  cared  to  tell.  Did  you  observe  how  long  she 
stood  before  that  very  bad  painting  of  Mr.  Lincoln  in  the 
poor  collection  called  the  American  Art  Gallery  ?  " 

"You  did  not  hear  her  questions  about  him,"  said  Henry. 


FIRST  ACQUAINTANCE.  23 

"  I  had  to  ask  mother  to  help  me  out  with  the  story.  She 
was  much  affected  by  the  narrative  of  his  low  beginning, 
trying  career,  and  tragic  end.  We  are  strange  creatures  to 
these  English,"  he  continued,  "  but  not  more  than  they  are 
to  us.  It  is  a  fashion,  I  think  an  affectation,  with  them  not 
to  know  anything  about  our  country,  and  I  have  more  than 
once  been  vexed,  for  I  never  begin  to  talk  to  them  about 
home,  by  an  Englishman  asking  whether  I  lived  in  North  or 
South  America." 

"But,  father  dear,  you  often  say  that  events  are  com 
pelling  the  English  to  appreciate  our  country,"  was  Mary's 
rejoinder. 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  but  compelled  appreciation  can  not  be 
sincere.  It  is  like  the  respect  that  comes  from  fear,  a  senti 
ment  that  begins  in  envy  and  ends  in  hate.  I  am  sorry  to 
believe  that  the  English  rulers  will  always  regard  us  in  the 
one  or  the  other  light.  Even  now  they  are  divided  between 
envy  and  hate." 

"  But,  father,  not  the  English  people." 

"  I  said  the  rulers  ;  no,  thank  God  !  not  the  English  peo 
ple  ;  and  that  increases  the  feeling  of  the  rulers — a  feeling 
daily  strengthened  by  their  dependence  on  us  and  our  inde 
pendence  of  them.  Our  Declaration  of  1776  was  but  the 
first  step  toward  our  independence  of  them,  which  is  yet  to 
culminate  and  give  place  to  such  a  dependence  of  England 
on  us — no,  such  a  unity  of  England  with  us  as  few  dream 
of  as  yet." 

"  Do  you  not  think,  George,  that  the  success  of  the  Union 
army  left  a  severe  scar  on  the  heart  of  the  English  aristoc 
racy  ?  "  quietly  asked  Mrs.  Harris. 

"  It  is  not  pleasant  to  know  this,  but  I  meet  it  almost 
daily,  and  it  is  often  difficult  to  keep  down  my  anger  among 
the  English.  I  could  not  believe  how  deeply  they  desired 
our  defeat ;  and  now  that  they  are  suffering  more  and  more 
in  their  trade,  and  getting  deeper  and  deeper  in  debt,  and 
we  are  improving  daily,  and  even  competing  with,  instead  of 
buying  from  them,  their  resentment  is  only  natural.  What 
2 


24  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

folly  in  them  to  fight  the  inevitable  !  Not  even  English 
pluck  is  sufficient  for  that,  and  they  must  know  that  we  and 
they  are  but  at  the  beginning  of  vast  changes,  and  all  in  one 
direction." 

And  this  was  the  other  side  of  the  medal. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   PARISIAN   PALACE    OP   PEACE. 

No  just  ideal  of  the  Paris  Exposition  would  have  been 
possible  had  it  not  been  preceded  by  the  Centennial  at  Phil 
adelphia,  two  years  before  ;  and  as  nine  or  ten  millions  of 
people  witnessed  the  latter,  they  need  only  be  assured  that 
its  French  successor,  though  unspeakably  grand  and  com 
plete,  lacked  many  of  the  unforgotten  peculiarities  of  the 
American  memorial.  In  one  respect  they  were  much  alike. 
They  had  the  same  transcendent  mission.  Before  the  Amer 
ican  International  all  the  great  Expositions  had  been  royal 
saturnalias,  originated  and  organized  by  the  Russian  Czar, 
the  British  Queen,  the  French  Emperor,  the  Austrian  Mon 
arch,  the  Belgian  King,  or  the  German  Kaiser,  and  the 
resulting  rewards  were  almost  exclusively  scattered  among 
court  favorites.  The  assertion  was  common  that  art  was  the 
offspring  of  aristocracy,  that  genius  only  ripened  under  a 
regal  sun,  and  that  a  modern  republic  was  another  name  for 
severe  utility.  The  Philadelphia  Centennial  dispelled  the 
offensive  dogma  by  the  grandeur  of  its  scheme,  by  its  superb 
perspectives,  architectural  and  rural,  by  the  almost  articulate 
perfection  of  its  marvelous  system,  by  the  magical  variety 
of  its  machines,  by  the  solved  problems  of  its  inventions,  and 
by  the  almost  inspired  succession  of  its  other  developments 
in  art,  science,  agriculture,  and  mechanics.  The  connoisseurs 
of  Europe  who  came  to  criticise  remained  to  applaud ;  the 
foreign  artists  who  feared  that  their  models  might  be  stolen 


THE  PARISIAN  PALACE  OF  PEACE.  25 

remained  to  copy  those  of  the  Americans  ;  and  the  people 
of  two  worlds  mingled  in  admiration  before  the  novelty  and 
majesty  of  the  spectacle.  No  court  favorites  absorbed  the 
awards  of  this  republican  jury.  Impartial  judgment  and 
refined  discrimination  settled  the  prizes  on  the  meritorious, 
without  reference  to  rank  or  condition  ;  and  they  may  now 
be  found  in  every  European  capital,  the  recognized  badges 
of  republican  good  taste  and  justice.  The  French  Republic 
followed  in  turn,  and  this  was  its  triumphant  season.  The 
prophets  who  predicted  failure  were  silent  before  its  mag 
nificence.  Never  before  had  French  genius  a  grander  oppor 
tunity  ;  never  had  art  reveled  in  a  more  complete  temple. 
The  air  was  full  of  freedom.  There  was  a  carnival  of  classic 
liberty.  There  were  order  without  arms,  culture  without 
coercion,  temperance  without  austerity,  and  subordination 
to  laws  made  by  the  people  themselves  for  themselves.  The 
festivals  that  crowned  this  unequaled  pageant  were  all  fes 
tivals  of  peace,  and  Paris  proved  to  her  foes  that  the  best 
way  to  govern  the  French  people  was  to  govern  them  least. 
The  trade  of  soldiers  and  the  crime  of  war,  that  guilty  satur 
nalia  of  France,  the  Third  Empire,  the  fierce  logic  of  the 
Commune,  and  the  grim  German  conquerors,  had  perished  or 
passed  away,  a  succession  of  horrors,  the  ghastly  harvest  of 
force,  the  grim  holocaust  of  an  incredible  treason.  The 
American  Centennial  was  the  apotheosis  of  freedom  in  the 
New  World,  a  better  and  brighter  deification  of  human 
rights  because  sanctified  by  the  blood  of  the  martyrs,  and 
the  French  Exposition  was  the  joyous  feast  of  the  deliver 
ance  from  despotism  of  one  of  the  oldest  nations  in  the  Old 
World.  Both  had  been  satiated  with  internal  conflict ;  both 
were  tired  of  the  horror  of  brother  warring  upon  brother ; 
and  both  sought  and  found  safety  in  these  magnificent  ex 
pressions  of  industry,  reconciliation,  and  fraternity. 

And  it  was  in  this  spirit  that  all  the  nations  came  to 
Paris  in  that  year  of  our  Lord.  No  one  failed  to  catch  the 
contagion  of  the  example.  No  orator  was  needed  to  empha 
size  a  lesson  that  spoke  for  itself  always  and  everywhere. 


26  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

For  the  first  time  the  European  monarchs  saw  that  the 
European  masses  would  fight  no  more  save  for  themselves. 
A  new  gospel  of  progress  had  been  declared.  The  French 
Republic  meant  victory  because  it  meant  peace.  As  you 
walked  these  long  corridors,  crossed  these  golden  pave 
ments,  and  looked  down  these  glittering  perspectives,  the 
monarch  you  met  was  the  multitude  !  And  he  felt  that  he 
was  master.  He  came  from  all  the  human  climes :  the 
swarth  Nubian,  the  silent  Chinese,  the  passionless  Turk, 
the  stolid  Swiss,  the  ruddy  English,  the  ebon  Moor,  the  light 
Caucasian,  the  grave  German,  the  gay  American,  the  black 
African,  the  olive  Italian,  and  the  frowning  Spaniard.  What 
a  fable  to  say  that  mankind  prefers  to  be  ruled  by  mediocrity  ! 
What  a  lie  to  insist  that  hereditary  government  is  essential 
to  civilization  !  The  world  is  getting  wiser,  and  the  pro- 
foundest  lesson  it  is  acquiring  is  that  the  kings  of  men  must 
be  kings  of  mind,  and  that  inherited  titles  are  no  more  com 
petent  to  control  humanity  than  inherited  disease.  The  citi 
zen  of  a  republic  is  judged  by  his  character  and  his  record, 
and  "  in  a  republic  a  title  is  no  more  than  a  counterfeit  bank 
note." 

The  greatest  wonder  of  the  Exposition  was  that  it  hap 
pened  when  it  did.  The  wounds  cut  deep  into  the  face  of 
the  fair  city,  in  '71  and  '72,  were  still  unhealed.  The  marks 
left  by  war  were  visible  almost  at  the  very  doors  of  this  fes 
tival  of  peace.  German  soldiers,  who  marched  beneath  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe  and  down  the  Champs  Elyse'es  in  full 
panoply  of  battle,  with  their  music  of  victory  echoing  and 
re-echoing  from  the  walls  of  the  closed  and  barred  houses, 
sipped  their  petits  verres  in  the  cafes  of  the  Exhibition,  and 
talked  like  brothers  with  men  hardly  more  than  yesterday 
their  deadly  foes.  To  stand  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Grand 
Hotel  de  Rivoli  and  look  over  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Tuileries 
was  almost  to  smell  the  cans  of  the  petroleuses.  The  rising 
walls  of  the  new  Hotel  de  Ville  recalled  the  yells  of  the  fren 
zied  Commune,  and  as  you  saw  everywhere  how  Paris  now 
rejoiced  you  could  not  but  remember  how  she  wept ;  you 


THE  AMERICANS.  27 

thought  of  the  immense  sum  France  had  surrendered  to  Ger 
many,  and  then  of  the  vast  expense  of  the  great  world's 
show,  and  you  had  to  honor  this  people  for  their  indomit 
able  courage,  energy,  and  perseverance,  and  to  marvel  at 
their  seemingly  inexhaustible  wealth.  They  had  failed  in  a 
war  which  they  had  undertaken  with  hearts  as  light  as  upon 
a,  fete  day,  and  confidence  so  strong  that  it  would  have  been 
treason  to  think  of  disaster.  They  had  cried  -^  Berlin/ 
until  they  believed  no  power,  divine  or  human,  could  save 
the  cohorts  of  King  William  from  defeat.  They  were 
crushed  by  the  terrible  result,  and  Paris  lay  bleeding  nigh 
unto  death.  But  they  dried  their  tears,  they  opened  their 
workshops,  they  rebuilt,  they  redecorated,  and  they  called 
the  world  to  come  and  visit  them. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     AMERICANS. 

No  American  family  was  better  known  in  Europe  than 
that  of  George  Harris,  and  this  for  two  reasons.  First,  be 
cause  they  seemed  to  be  almost  omnipresent.  You  saw  them 
in  Rome,  especially  if  you  went  where  new  streets  were  being 
opened — where  excavations  were  bringing  to  light  an  earlier 
and  nobler  era  than  that  of  the  Caesars  ;  most  of  all,  would 
you  be  sure  to  see  them  in  the  new  schools  and  churches 
wherein  is  being  nursed  the  infancy,  at  least,  of  a  grander 
epoch  than  that  of  the  Popes.  If  you  seated  yourself  in  the 
magnificent  Scala  of  Milan,  you  were  sure  to  see  at  a  dis 
tance,  if  not  the  father  or  the  mother,  certainly  Henry  Harris 
and  his  sister.  The  family  came  upon  you  as  you  lingered 
under  the  lindens  at  Berlin  ;  among  the  treasuries  of  ceramic 
art  in  Dresden  ;  along  the  picture  galleries  of  Vienna,  or  as 
you  drove  in  your  droschka  down  the  streets  of  St.  Peters 
burg.  Perhaps  nowhere  did  the  father  and  son  find  as  much 


28  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

to  interest  them  as  in  the  English  Parliament.  The  Chamber 
of  Deputies,  in  France,  was  more  exciting,  but  they  were  too 
well  acquainted  with  the  French  not  to  know  that  the  history 
of  France  is  but  the  explosive  utterances  of  a  national  char 
acter,  from  which,  and  through  the  future  also,  the  sparkle, 
the  foam,  and  the  intoxication  are  as  inseparable  in  the  man 
as  in  the  champagne  springing  from  the  same  soil. 

"  The  English  are  slow  of  movement,"  George  Harris  re 
marked  to  his  son  one  day,  as  they  sat  in  the  Strangers'  Gal 
lery  during  a  debate  in  the  House  of  Commons,  "  but  they 
never  recede.  Of  course  you  and  I  know  the  sure  result  to 
which  England  is  tending,  but  I  admire  the  ponderous  slow 
ness  with  which  it  advances.  See  the  scorn  and  apathy  with 
which  so  many  of  them  are  listening  to  John  Bright.  Look 
at  him  :  his  whole  manner  is  that  of  a  man  who  is  slowly 
straining  as  if  to  lift  a  vast  weight.  He  knows  that  destiny 
works  in  and  with  him,  but  that  it  works  with  imperceptible 
omnipotence." 

"  And  I  was  thinking,"  his  son  replied,  "  of  the  colonies 
of  England.  Apart  from  its  general  influence  over  other 
nations,  it  drags  after  it  half  the  world  in  its  vast  dependen 
cies.  Like  a  locomotive  drawing  an  enormous  train,  and 
upon  an  up-grade  too,  it  must  move  slowly." 

"Yes  ;  and  the  work  given  England  to  do  has  devel 
oped,"  the  father  added,  "  both  English  pluck  and  English 
brawn.  But  were  ever  people  so  unlike  as  the  French  and 
the  English  !  No  wonder  that  for  so  many  centuries  they 
regarded  themselves  as  natural  enemies,  cat  and  dog,  bound 
to  fly  at  each  other  on  sight.  Each  does  its  own  work  in  its 
own  way." 

Neither  father  nor  son  uttered  it,  yet  both  added  it  to 
himself,  "  And  America  is  the  power  which  impels  both." 

But  there  was  a  second  reason  why  George  Harris  and 
his  family  were  so  well  known  over  Europe.  Wherever«you 
met  them  you  could  not  fail  to  be  struck  with  their  appear 
ance.  In  Italy  or  Germany  ;  in  Sweden,  Russia,  or  France  ; 
by  porter  and  by  prince,  by  concierge  at  the  door  of  their 


THE  AMERICANS.  29 

hotel  or  by  the  nobleman  who  received  them  at  dinner,  by 
wayside  peasant  and  by  king,  queen,  or  czar,  father  and 
mother,  son  and  daughter,  were  regarded  as  belonging,  in 
some  way,  to  the  nobility.  The  parents  had  sprung  from  the 
common  people.  At  one  time  they  had  been  very  poor,  had 
to  struggle  hard  and  to  live  scantily,  yet  with  success  had 
come  something  more  than  merely  the  aspect  of  wealth. 

"Look  at  Disraeli  over  there,"  Henry  Harris  had  said 
to  his  father  at  a  dinner  given  by  the  Mayor  of  London  ; 
"  why  is  it  that  you  would  know  that  he  is  a  public  man  if 
you  were  to  meet  him  by  Lake  Nyanza  ?  It  is  the  same  of 
Bright,  of  Gladstone.  You  can  see  that  they  have  been  long 
accustomed  to  face  opposing  or  applauding  multitudes. 
Their  countenances  are  noble,  yet  worn  like  cliffs  washed  by 
the  seas." 

"  Every  man  wears  his  character  in  his  face,"  the  elder 
Harris  replied.  "At  last,  my  son,  we  always  know  people 
for  what  they  are  !  Lord  Conyngham,  for  instance — I  read 
him  from  the  moment  he  first  spoke  to  me." 

"  But  a  young  man  grows,  changes,"  Henry  Harris  has 
tened  to  say. 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  saw  that  in  him,  too  ;  possibility  of  change, 
docility  of  development,  if  I  may  so  style  it.  Strange  to 
say,  it  was  this  which  checked  my  anger,  even  in  the  first 
moment  of  exasperation  at  him.  But  we  will  not  speak  of 
that  again.  Besides,  hush  !  we  can  not  catch  what  that  gen 
tleman  down  the  table  is  trying  to  say." 

"  Why  can't  the  man  say  what  he  has  to  say  ?  "  Henry 
Harris  murmured  to  himself.  "  Why  will  an  Englishman 
persist  in  mumbling,  hesitating,  repeating,  whenever  he  rises 
to  make  a  speech  ?  Because  great  men  write  illegibly  under 
press  of  business,  lesser  men  do  so  too  ;  they  will,  in  that  at 
least,  be  like  the  Rufus  Choates  and  Horace  Greeleys. 
Prime  ministers  hum  and  haw  in  Parliament,  and,  there 
fore,  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  must  do  so  too.  But  I  will  lis 
ten  if  I  can." 

The  family  of  George  Harris  seemed  to  live  in  public, 


30  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

and  it  was  a  very  broad  public,  since  it  embraced  all  Europe, 
with  occasional  visits  to  Egypt  and  Syria.  Had  they  been 
in  America,  they  could  have  contented  themselves  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson  or  the  Delaware.  There  they  would 
have  been  happy  even  in  a  home  comparatively  secluded,  and 
surrounded  by  friends  few  and  choice.  Being  in  Europe,  it 
was  different.  "Wherever  their  home  might  be  for  the  time, 
as  pleasure  or  business  demanded,  they  were  always  "  abroad," 
so  far  as  feeling  went. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Americans  as  of 
the  English,"  Lord  Conyngham  remarked  one  day  to  Henry 
Harris.  "  Arabs  and  Turks,  Spaniards  and  Russians,  people 
wonder  at  us  wherever  we  go.  '  Why  can't  they  be  quiet  ? ' 
they  say  to  each  other  of  us.  '  Is  their  own  land  so  dreadful 
that  it  is  impossible  to  live  there  ? '  I  don't  understand  it 
myself.  We  have  a  St.  Vitus's  dance  ;  we  can't  settle  down 
to  save  our  lives." 

"  I  suppose,"  Henry  Harris  made  answer,  "  that  it  is  part 
of  our  force.  Our  mission  is  to  revolutionize  the  world,  you 
know.  We  are  missionaries,  you  observe,  my  lord.  So  long 
as  there  remains  a  Chinese  locked  up  in  his  ancient  costume, 
a  Turk  in  his  harem,  a  Zulu  in  his  jungle,  we  must  go  after 
him." 

"  They  certainly  will  not  come  to  us,"  Lord  Conyngham 
replied. 

George  Harris  and  his  household  seemed  to  be,  as  has 
been  said,  almost  everywhere,  and  yet  wherever  they  went 
they-carried  their  home  with  them.  Mr.  Harris  had  married 
his  wife  because  he  had  loved  her,  and  as  they  strove  together 
to  establish  themselves  in  the  world  their  mutual  affection 
had  deepened  as  part  of  their  mutual  development.  As  their 
children  grew  up  they  had  been  taken  into  the  close  com 
panionship,  and  therefore  into  the  steady  growth  of  the  pa 
rents.  Before  leaving  America  the  father  and  mother  had 
been  separated  from  the  rich  more  by  their  independence  of 
spirit  than  by  their  poverty.  From  the  great  mass  of  the 
laboring  poor  they  were  held  apart  still  more  by  their  habits 


THE  AMERICANS.  31 

of  thrift,  of  self-denial,  of  deliberate  purpose  to  lift  them 
selves  to  higher  levels.  Thus,  and  from  the  outset,  the 
household  had  been  nurtured  into  the  nearest  intimacy  with 
each  other,  as  aloof  from  those  around  them.  When  they 
came  to  Europe  this  feeling  was  naturally  intensified.  The 
pressure  of  business,  stern  and  steady,  their  ignorance  of 
the  ways  of  the  people  about  them,  as  much,  sometimes,  as 
of  their  language,  the  deepening  of  the  intention  to  advance 
in  things  to  which  all  lesser  success  was  but  a  stepping-stone 
— all  this  had  tended  still  more  to  isolate  the  household  from 
the  world  about  them,  and  to  throw  them  upon  themselves. 
Had  they  remained  in  America,  they  could  not  have  been  so 
thoroughly  at  home  when  together  as  was  now  the  case. 

"  At  last  our  happiness  lies  in  that,"  Mary  Harris  said  to 
her  brother,  as  they  walked  together  one  day  through  the 
wonders  of  the  Exposition  at  Paris  ;  "  whatever  we  see  dur 
ing  the  day — pictures,  statues,  machinery,  distinguished  peo 
ple,  marvels,  absurdities — whatever  we  see  or  hear  during  the 
day,  is  really  enjoyed  only  after  we  have  come  together  at 
night,  and  while  we  are  talking  it  all  over  together  before 
we  part  for  the  night.  Besides — " 

"  Well,  besides  what  ?  "  her  brother  asked,  for  his  sister 
had  ceased  to  speak,  and  seemed  indifferent  to  the  brilliant 
scene  around  her — to  be  thinking  instead,  her  eyes  cast  down. 
Neither  of  them  observed  that  Lady  Blanche  and  her  brother 
were  examining  a  superb  set  of  Limoges  faience  near  them. 

"  Besides  what  ?  "  Henry  Harris  repeated. 

"  I  ought  not  to  say  it  ; "  the  fair  girl  lifted  her  laughing 
eyes  to  her  companion's  ;  "  but  do  you  know,  I  never  see  any 
body  I  think  quite  as  much  of  as  I  do  of  those  at  home." 

"  Of  course  you  love  them  most ;  I  do." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  that ;  you  mustn't  make  fun  of  me, 
Henry,  but  I  can  not  help  thinking  that  my  father  and  moth 
er  are  superior  to  everybody  I  meet.  If  the  French  Govern 
ment  had  said  to  father,  '  Here  are  the  millions  ;  we  do  not 
understand  such  things,  and  you  do  ;  build  an  Exposition 
Building  for  us ; '  don't  you  suppose  he  could  have  done  it 


32  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

at  least  as  well  or  better  than  it  has  been  done  ?  When  I 
saw  Marshal  MacMahon  for  the  first  time  I  said  to  myself, 
'  If  my  father  had  commanded  in  your  place,  he  would  not 
have  been  whipped  by  Von  Moltke,  I  can  assure  you.'  It 
may  be  absurd,  but  last  night  at  the  opera  I  thought,  while 
the  people  were  applauding  the  prima  donna  so  vigorously, 
*  Ah  !  if  you  only  heard  my  mother ! ' ' 

"  Why,  she  can  not  sing  !  "  and  her  brother  laughed  aloud. 

"  No,  but  she  could  if  she  would.  Look  at  what  my  fa 
ther  has  made  himself.  Suppose  he  had  gone  into  music  in 
stead  ;  and  so  of  my  mother  :  there  is  nothing  on  earth  that 
they  could  not  do  if  they  tried." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  father  would  have  made  an  excel 
lent  czar  ?  "  her  brother  asked,  humoring  her  affection. 

"  Certainly  ;  I  have  never  seen  the  Emperor  that  I  have 
not  said  to  myself,  '  I  only  wish  I  had  the  opportunity  to  tell 
your  Majesty  so,' "  the  sister  gravely  replied. 

"  Nonsense  ! "  her  brother  exclaimed,  and  they  strolled 
on.  But  the  sister  did  not  tell  him  that  she  had  almost  as 
exalted  an  opinion  of  him  as  of  their  father.  There  was  not 
a  picture  she  passed,  a  statue  she  saw,  but  she  entertained  a 
secret  belief  that  Henry  could  have  done  it  a  little  better  if 
he  had  given  his  attention  in  that  direction.  The  brother 
would  not  have  expressed  it,  but,  really,  he  had  the  same 
feeling  toward  his  father  and  mother  and  sister.  Had  their 
lineage  been  the  best  in  Europe,  the  members  of  the  house 
hold  could  not  have  had  greater  pride  of  race.  Their  line 
extended  back,  it  is  true,  not  for  a  thousand,  but  merely  for 
some  sixty  years  or  so  ;  instead  of  a  hundred  ancestors,  val 
iant  knights,  belted  earls,  noble  dames,  there  was  only  one 
father  to  boast  of  and  one  mother  ;  yet,  and  because  an  entire 
genealogy  was  condensed  in  these,  they  were  that  much  the 
more  prized  and  loved  by  their  children. 

"  I  suppose,"  Lady  Blanche  said  to  her  brother,  when  the 
others  had  passed  out  of  hearing,  "  that  it  is  their  belief  in 
themselves  which  gives  them  the  bearing  of  princes." 

"And  the  odd  thing  about  it,"  Lord  Conyngham  replied, 


GEORGE  HARRIS  BREAKS  HIS  SILENCE.         33 

"  is  that  they  never  do  or  say  anything  that  looks  like  boast 
ing.  They  assume  their  nobility  as  matter  of  course.  They 
are  curious  people,  the  Americans.  I  am  every  day  more 
eager  to  understand  them.  I  have  had  men  who  toadied  to 
me  until  I  could  have  kicked  them  into  the  kennel,"  he  added 
to  his  sister  Blanche  ;  "  but,  in  the  case  of  young  Harris,  if 
there  is  to  be  any  toadying,  by  Jove  !  it  is  Zwho  must  do  it. 
He  is  a  modest  fellow,  and  yet  you  feel  toward  him  as  if  he 
were  a  royal  duke." 


CHAPTER  X. 

GEORGE    HAKKIS   BREAKS    HIS   SILENCE. 

AMONG  many  curious  places  in  Paris,  old  and  new,  there 
is  none  more  cosmopolitan  than  "  The  Bodega,"  occupying 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  Rivoli  and  the  Rue  Castiglione,  part 
of  the  costly  hotel-palace,  "The  Continental."  Its  furnish 
ing  is  a  mass  of  gilding,  carving,  mirrors,  upholstery,  mag 
nificent  repoussk,  altar-pieces,  and  bold  arabesques,  oil  paint 
ings,  mosaics,  and  furniture  of  inconceivable  shapes  and 
prices.  The  Bodega  is  to  this  huge  pile  what  a  chapel  is  to 
a  cathedral ;  what  a  wine  vault  is  to  a  great  castle.  It  is 
the  resort  of  the  daily  cosmopolitan  multitude,  who  come 
there  to  smoke,  to  lunch,  and  to  enjoy  the  distillations  of 
their  various  countries,  while  they  converse  and  trade.  The 
various  wines  and  liquors  are  exposed  in  pipes,  and  the  cus 
tomers  served  by  draughts  drawn  from  the  spigots  by  the 
active  servants  of  the  place.  English,  French,  Germans, 
Italians,  Americans,  Dutch,  Mexicans,  Turks,  Africans,  India 
princes,  all  ranks  and  nations,  gathered  here  during  the  Ex 
position,  from  morn  till  night,  and  even  English  ladies  did 
not  hesitate  to  meet  here  for  their  ale,  sherry,  port,  and  gin. 
One  saw  them  frequently,  and  frequently  alone,  and,  al 
though  you  never  saw  them  insulted,  you  never  met  at  the 
Bodega  an  American  woman.  Upstairs  are  spacious  parlors 


34:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

where  almost  every  day  men  of  all  nations  meet  to  gossip, 
large  rooms  looking  out  upon  the  Place  Concorde  and  the 
gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  and  sometimes  you  meet  odd  char 
acters  and  have  curious  views.  In  this  spot  some  friends 
had  met  together  by  themselves.  Yet  the  ample  doors  were 
wide  open,  and  the  scene  was  free  to  all,  and  quite  public. 
The  impromptu  speech,  given  presently,  had  numerous  im 
promptu  auditors. 

There  was  a  large  party — men  of  all  nationalities.  Two 
handsome  rooms  were  thrown  open,  but  the  company  mostly 
gathered  in  the  one  with  George  Harris,  where  there  were 
plenty  of  chairs  and  easy  lounges  and  American  rockers. 
The  Frenchmen  and  other  foreigners  could  all  understand 
English.  Everything  was  very  cheerful.  For  a  while  light 
subjects  only  were  started,  but  presently  they  came  upon  a 
more  serious  topic,  and  one  from  "home."  It  was  a  marked 
sample  out  of  those  cases  now  and  then  occurring  in  the 
United  States,  where  a  newspaper  editor  had  exposed  the 
private  life  and  wickedness  of  a  candidate  for  public  office, 
and  even  mentioned  his  relatives  with  opprobrium.  The 
enraged  candidate  had  deliberately  sought  the  editor  and 
shot  him  dead. 

By  insensible  degrees,  as  this  affair  was  discussed,  it 
rapidly  assumed  a  gravity  which  spread  like  a  cloud  over 
the  assembled  groups,  and  became  a  sort  of  rallying-point, 
or  center  of  defense,  for  the  Great  Republic  and  its  society, 
institutions,  and  prospects.  There  was  a  small  minority  on 
one  side  ;  on  the  other  was  the  majority — among  them  sev 
eral  Americans — with  plenty  of  out-and-out  denunciations, 
and  rueful  prophesies  of  evil  to  the  land  where  such  things 
seemed  characteristic  and  ingrained. 

As  the  voices  raised  and  multiplied,  and  matters  became 
almost  threatening,  a  gentleman  who  was  standing  in  the 
door  sang  out  : 

"  Here  comes  the  Old  Gray.  Now  let's  hear  what  he  has 
to  say  about  it." 

The  person  so  designated  as  he  entered  the  room  was 


GEORGE  HARRIS  BREAKS  HIS  SILENCE.         35 

received,  it  was  plain,  with  affectionate  welcome  by  all  the 
Americans.  Many  rose  and  advanced ;  every  countenance 
lit  up.  Imagine  a  man  of  slow  movement,  six  feet  tall, 
stoutly  built,  with  blue  eyes,  red  and  tanned  complexion, 
white  or  almost  white  beard,  mustache,  and  hair  very  pro 
fuse,  quite  untrimmed,  and  the  latter  falling  over  an  enor 
mous  shirt-collar,  snowy  clean,  flaring  wide  open  at  the  throat, 
free  of  necktie,  and  with  proportionately  vast  cuffs,  turned 
over  at  the  wrists.  The  shirt-collar  and  wristbands,  with 
their  unusual  blanch  of  copiousness,  having  first  been  ob 
served,  you  saw  that  the  name  by  which  his  friend  announced 
him  was  fully  warranted.  He  was  dressed  in  an  entire  suit 
of  light  English  gray,  loose  sack-coat,  trousers,  vest,  with 
overgaiters  on  his  ankles,  all  of  the  same  material.  Nor  must 
the  hat  be  forgotten,  a  soft  nutria,  mole-colored,  broad- 
brimmed,  and  of  specially  generous  crown — a  characteristic 
hat,  the  kind  which  travelers  will  remember  seeing  in  New 
York  and  some  of  the  old  Southern  cities. 

Answering  the  friendly  greetings  of  the  crowd  by  a  few 
words,  but  plenty  of  expressive  nods,  smiles,  and  hand-clasp- 
ings,  he  accepted  a  seat  near  George  Harris,  while  a  brim 
ming  glass  of  red  wine  was  filled,  and  put  by  his  side. 

"  You  are  just  in  time,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  "  to  settle  this 
quarrel  of  ours  ;  "  proceeding  to  state  the  points  of  the  ar 
gument — the  case  that  the  American  newspapers  had  been 
printing  and  commenting  on,  while  the  foreign  press  found 
in  it  a  typical  bit  of  democracy,  an  omen  of  disruption. 

The  Old  Gray  leisurely  proceeded  to  drink  before  he 
gratified  their  inquiries.  There  was  quite  a  silence  through 
the  rooms.  What  he  said  came  out  slowly  at  first ;  then,  as 
objections,  questions,  and  cross-questions  accumulated,  he 
went  on  with  more  decision  and  animation. 

"  I  am  in  the  midst  of  friends,"  he  said,  looking  around  ; 
"  not  only  fellow- Americans,  but  fellow-Europeans.  If  you 
really  want  my  notions  and  theories,  you  must  allow  me  to 
give  them  in  my  own  way." 

We  will  not  undertake  to  render  literally  what  followed. 


36  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

The  minority  rested  in  peace,  content  to  leave  their  case  in 
the  old  man's  hands.  The  majority  comprised  some  very 
skillful  and  able  speakers.  All  were  entirely  courteous,  yet 
heavy  blows  were  struck  upon  both  sides.  We  will  content 
ourselves  with  giving  the  gist  of  the  new-comer's  utterance. 

It  was  an  advocacy  of  freedom — some  would  have  called 
parts  of  it  a  rhapsody.  It  was  no  rhapsody,  however,  for 
the  American  possessed  all  the  cautiousness  and  even  wari 
ness  of  Monsieur  Thiers  himself,  but  more  heat  and  emotion, 
and  had  learned,  though  less  in  books  and  systems,  far  more 
of  men  and  actual  life.  He  boldly  defended  the  spirit  of 
license  in  the  press,  in  legislative  assemblies,  in  criticism. 
"  Excesses  are  unavoidable — they  prove  the  rule,"  he  said. 
"  Weeds  even  show  that  the  soil  is  rich.  Nature  itself  is 
freedom. 

"  I  speak  strongly,"  said  he,  "  because  I  find  many  good 
people  who  think  the  only  remedy  for  too  free  action  is  in 
severer  penalties  and  tighter  restrictions.  Do  not  misunder 
stand  me  either.  Of  course,  the  rules  of  the  civil,  criminal, 
and  common  law,  the  same  in  all  countries,  must  be  abso 
lutely  adhered  to  and  enforced.  Then  I  believe  in  immense 
margins  for  America,  and  for  all  modern  peoples  ;  they  are 
necessary  to  growth  and  development.  I  want  a  tough, 
gristly,  athletic  race,  in  my  country,  North  and  South.  I 
want  a  proud,  full-voiced,  even  turbulent  democracy  ;  and  if 
we  can't  have  that  without  some  excesses  and  evils — as  how 
can  we  ? — I  will  do  the  best  I  can  with  the  evils.  Believe 
me,  we  are  to  revise  and  reconstruct  some  of  the  hitherto 
accepted  points  of  public  opinion  for  the  use  of  the  New 
World.  Not  the  great  laws  of  right  and  wrong,  for  they 
are  eternal  ;  but  under  them,  and  fully  owning  them,  we 
are  to  take  our  own  way — as,  indeed,  we  substantially  have 
done  now  for  a  century.  Of  that  way,  the  States,  as  they 
now  stand,  are  the  fruit. 

"  The  principle  of  freedom,  I  do  not  object  to  your  call 
ing  it  license,  carries  in  its  train  not  merely  its  own  great 
good,  but  many  great  evils,  like  the  principles  of  Nature  it- 


GEORGE  HARRIS  BREAKS  HIS  SILENCE.         37 

self.  Few  understand  America — few  even  of  her  own  chil 
dren.  As  I  said,  she  proceeds  on  her  development  in  her 
own  way,  perhaps  unwittingly  to  herself,  on  immense  scales, 
like  those  of  geology  ;  her  aims  are  vast  ameliorations  in 
the  future  ;  she  is  unable  to  stop  her  mighty  strides  to  heal 
every  temporary  fault  and  defection. 

"  Compacted  as  we  are  to  be — for,  as  far  as  now  appears 
to  me,  our  Union  is  indissoluble — our  varieties  and  paradoxes 
are  immense.  Our  republic  is  not  only  a  new  dispensation, 
a  new  departure  in  itself  ;  it  needs  a  new  dispensation  of 
free  speech,  free  criticism,  tough  cuticles,  unprecedented  tol 
eration.  What,  more  than  these,  can  supply  that  tremen 
dous  concrete  and  perpetual  attrition  our  diverse  elements 
so  need  ? 

"  We  are  certainly  blocking  out  and  dovetailing  together 
in  the  United  States  the  great  democratic  edifice  of  the 
coming  world,  not  for  or  out  of  ourselves  merely,  but  out  of 
all  races — British,  German,  Scandinavian,  Spanish,  French, 
Italian — and  as  the  legitimate  result  of  past  time.  Not  for 
the  States  alone,  I  say  ;  the  United  States  of  America  is  mere 
ly  a  model  in  small  for  the  United  States  of  the  World  ;  the 
whole  world,  and  all  lands,  and  all  good  men  and  women 
are  inextricably  involved  in  our  success. 

"Yes,  few  understand  America.  I  have  sometimes 
thought  I  have  not  met  a  single  person  who  fully  appre 
ciates  her.  The  most  hardy,  most  patriotic,  most  sublime, 
most  balancing  spirit  of  time  and  humanity  yet — more 
heroic  than  the  old  Greek  or  Roman — is  to-day  brooding 
in  our  average  American-born  people,  in  the  agricultural  re 
gions,  and  the  good  strata  of  workmen  in  cities.  It  is  a  la 
tent,  generally  slumbering  power,  but  sometimes  it  awakes. 
It  will  always  certainly  awake  when  fit  occasions  come.  It 
awoke  in  '61,  and  took  shape.  It  put  down  the  Secession 
revolt.  The  politicians  with  their  rings  and  frauds  ostensi 
bly  manage  our  politics,  I  confess,  but  the  people  back  of 
everything  really  hold  the  last  tremendous  verdict,  and  will 
give  it  and  relentlessly  execute  it  whenever  they  choose.  To 


38  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

me  it  is  enough.  Any  day,  any  moment,  the  power  I  speak 
of — and  it  is  unerring,  deathless,  willful — may  burst  into  ac- 
tionj  quick  and  resistless  as  lightning.  Then  the  evil  birds 
of  our  politics  will  scatter  to  their  dark  holes,  like  the  swarms 
of  bats  they  are.  My  friends,  few  know  the  real  America. 
It  does  not  know  itself.  It  is  not  on  the  surface. 

"Not  more  surely  is  the  material  universe,  with  all  its 
contradictions,  one  grand  scheme  of  development,  often 
through  rough  and  forbidding  processes,  than  the  American 
Union  is.  It  is  never  going  to  be  great  in  conquests,  as 
Rome  ;  nor  in  the  classic  arts,  as  Greece  ;  nor  rival  the  spe 
cial  points  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  nor  compete,  at  least,  I  hope 
not,  with  the  current  European  capitals  in  their  bon  ton,  or 
operas,  or  the  special  refinement  of  the  few,  or  what  they 
call  culture  and  society.  Though  '  ladies  and  gentlemen '  are 
included  in  its  scope,  it  is  quite  indifferent  to  them,  and  could 
get  along  perfectly  well  without  them.  Not  so  other  na 
tions  ;  in  those  select  classes  flows  the  heart's  blood  of  other 
nations.  But  we  are  a  People,  averaged,  dilated,  religious, 
sane,  practical,  owning  their  own  homes — fifty  millions,  as 
the  next  census  will  show — sublime  masses,  such  as  the  world 
never  saw  before.  Faults  enough  there  are,  and  miseries 
enough,  and  frauds  enough,  and  the  poor  and  unemployed, 
no  doubt.  Yet  where  else  is  Man  so  brought  to  the  front  ? 
Where  are  the  ideals  of  all  enthusiasts,  and  all  the  past,  al 
ready  so  realized  ?  " 

As  the  old  man  ended  there  was  silence  for  a  short  time. 
His  earnestness  had  made  a  deep  impression,  not  only  on 
the  foreigners,  but  on  the  Americans  themselves  There  was 
not  only  such  vehement  faith,  but  such  original  touches, 
novel  presentations,  such  weird  effects  withal,  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  the  "  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead  "  were  hovering 
in  the  room. 

Jefferson,  Rousseau,  Hegel,  Buckle — ay,  old  Socrates, 
and  a  greater  than  Socrates — would  have  found,  if  so,  that 
their  hopes,  ardors  for  humanity,  their  overarching  dreams, 
were  here  alive  and  active  to-day,  adhered  to  without  dimi- 


AN  AMERICAN  EVANGEL.  39 

nution,  without  remitting  a  particle — nay,  with  increased 
confidence,  perfect  trust  in  God's  purposes,  and  demands 
larger  than  ever,  tempered  well  with — but  undauntedly  meet 
ing  and  in  defiance  of — all  the  exceptions,  sarcasms,  evil 
prophecies,  of  the  most  inveterate  pessimist. 


CHAPTER  XL 

AN   AMERICAN   EVANGEL. 

THE  American  Chapel,  Rue  de  Berri,  Paris,  with  its 
simple  front  and  plain  interior,  in  the  midst  of  numerous 
costly  and  venerable  Catholic  monuments,  resembles  a 
Quaker  woman  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  jeweled  queens, 
and  its  ministrations  are  almost  as  exclusive  as  the  Roman 
service  is  universal.  It  is,  like  all  the  purely  English  church 
es  on  the  Continent,  attended  by  the  traveling  and  resident 
English  and  American  Protestants,  and  avoided  by  the  Catho 
lics  of  the  different  races.  The  prevailing  Continental  reli 
gion  is  Romish.  An  Italian,  French,  or  Spanish  convert 
to  Protestantism  is,  or  was,  almost  as  exceptional  as  a  recu 
sant  Hebrew  or  a  Christianized  Turk.  You  are  told  by  the 
priests  that  there  are  no  changes  from  Catholicity  except  to 
infidelity,  and  that  outside  of  Switzerland,  Germany,  Hol 
land,  Sweden,  and  Norway,  Continental  Europe  is  complete 
ly  subservient,  skepticism  excepted,  to  the  Pope.  In  France, 
however,  the  real  leaders  of  aggressive  thought  and  purpose 
are  certainly  not  in  this  category,  and  they  thoroughly  repre 
sent  the  French  masses.  There  the  republican  chiefs  accept 
the  mission  of  .war  upon  priestly  domination  in  politics  and 
education  as  second  to  if  not  a  part  of  their  party  philosophy, 
and  the  people  support  them.  If  the  leaders  do  not  logically 
drift  into  the  Protestant  faith,  it  is  doubtless  because  there 
are  too  many  Protestant  creeds  and  doctrines  ;  hence,  too 
many  divisions.  The  French  republicans  hold  that  the  mod- 


4:0  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ern  Catholic  Church  is  the  conscientious  foe  of  all  human 
liberty  ;  that  no  doubter  is  ever  permitted  in  that  microcosm, 
and  that  such  a  doubter  never  raises  his  voice  until,  like 
Luther  in  the  past  or  Hyacinthe  or  Dollinger  in  the  present, 
until  a  Lacordaire,  Lamennais,  or  Montalembert  appears  to 
cry  out  against  abuses  which  periodically  overthrow  dynas 
ties  and  thrones.  These  men  insist  that  the  Roman  hierar 
chy  is  a  political  machine  and  nothing  more  ;  that  it  can  live 
only  in  the  atmosphere  of  slavery,  aristocracy,  and  privilege  ; 
that  its  armies  are  the  cohorts  of  ignorance,  bigotry,  and 
suppression  of  speech  and  the  press  ;  and  that  there  can  be 
no  genuine  liberty  in  the  world  until  the  Catholic  Church  is 
radically  changed  or  utterly  destroyed.  Protestantism  is  too 
divergent  and  discordant  for  such  strong  minds.  None  of 
the  republican  leaders  of  France  are  demonstrative  in  church 
matters,  while  the  Orleans  and  Bourbon  princes  are  nothing 
if  not  Romanist,  and  the  late  Napoleon  and  his  Spanish  Eu 
genie  derived  from  their  Catholic  connections  incalculable  ad 
vantages.  It  is  only  of  late  that  the  Gospel,  and  in  a  form 
more  primitive  even  than  Protestantism,  seems  to  be  revolu 
tionizing  France,  and  at  its  deepest  foundations,  because 
among  the  very  humblest  of  the  people. 

The  Protestant  chapel  in  Paris  was  a  common  ground  for 
American  and  English  worshipers.  The  British  Dissenters 
and  the  American  Unitarians,  Presbyterians,  Baptists,  Lu 
therans,  and  Methodists,  were  specially  attracted  every  Sun 
day  during  the  Exhibition,  and  the  Harrises  were  very  regular 
in  their  attendance.  It  was  announced  that  a  young  clergy 
man  of  Philadelphia,  a  friend  of  theirs  on  his  visit  to  Paris, 
would  preach  on  the  coming  Sabbath.  Lord  Conyngham 
and  Blanche  were  only  too  glad  to  promise  their  presence. 
George  Harris  had  a  great  desire  to  induce  the  Earl  to  hear 
the  young  divine  ;  but,  knowing  his  nature,  and  his  indiffer 
ence  to  all  things  that  savored  of  religious  dissent,  and  his 
inherited  respect  for  the  Church  of  England,  not  to  speak  of 
his  growing  belief  that  American  ideas  and  inventions  were, 
to  use  his  own  words,  "  undermining  the  institutions  of  Old 


AN  AMERICAN  EVANGEL.  41 

England,"  he  concluded  to  speak  to  Blanche,  who  instantly 
responded  : 

"  I  will  secure  his  attendance,  Mr.  Harris,  never  fear,  and 
think  I  can  pledge  him  for  the  sermon  ; "  and  the  dear  girl 
made  her  demonstration  to  the  Earl  with  all  the  cunning  im 
pulse  of  her  sex. 

"  I  want  you  to  ride  with  us  to  chapel  on  Sunday,  dear 
papa,"  she  said  the  next  morning  at  breakfast,  in  the  tone 
she  always  used  when  she  wanted  to  be  most  acceptable  to 
her  fastidious  father. 

"  Certainly,  Blanche  ;  I  have  never  attended  our  service, 
I  regret  to  say,  since  my  arrival  in  Paris." 

"  It  is  not  our  service,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  the  American 
chapel,  and  you  are  to  hear  a  very  interesting  young  Ameri 
can  clergyman,  and  I  have  mortgaged  you  for  an  hour,  if 
you  please,  sir." 

"  Blanche,  when  are  you  to  finish  this  American  craze  ? 
I  confess  I  am  getting  dreadfully  bored,  and  now  I  am  to  be 
dragged  to  the  altar  to  be  scolded  by  a  Puritan  in  the  pul 
pit.  No  horror  is  more  terrible  to  me  than  to  be  forced  to 
listen  to  one  of  those  dogmatic  doctors  of  divinity  who 
glory  in  hammering  their  auditors  into  their  conclusions. 
No,  Blanche  ;  I  must  be  excused.  I  am  satiated  with  Yan 
kees." 

"  No,  you  are  not,  you  darling,  handsome  papa  ;  not  sati 
ated,  but  fascinated." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lady  Blanche  ?  How  fascinated  ? 
I  am  incapable  of  such  an  emotion." 

Not  even  Blanche  could  have  induced  the  Earl  to  go  if 
she  had  not  been  able  to  say  in  conclusion,  of  the  preacher  : 
"  His  wife  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  famous  Lord  Colling- 
wood,  who  succeeded  Nelson  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  and 
whose  mausoleum  at  St.  Paul's  you  admired  so  much." 

So  Blanche  carried  her  point  as  usual,  and  at  the  time 
fixed  the  two  families  attended  church.  There  were  too 
many  prominent  people  present  to  make  even  this  distin 
guished  party  more  attractive  than  others ;  but  a  lovely 


4:2  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

woman  is  always  a  sensation,  and  charming  Mary  Hams  was 
too  well  known  not  to  be  a  special  magnet.  Character  is 
that  element  in  a  woman  that  disarms  envy,  and  Mary,  ad 
mired  by  men,  was  worshiped  by  women  because,  while  she 
knew  a  great  deal,  she  assumed  to  know  nothing.  Lady 
Blanche,  herself  an  English  beauty,  and  as  beautiful  for  her 
good  sense  as  for  her  honest  heart,  was  of  a  haughtier  bear 
ing,  as  was  natural  to  her  rank  and  personal  charms.  The 
Earl  and  George  Harris  and  Mrs.  Harris  sat  together,  leav 
ing  the  four  young  people  in  the  second  pew  from  the 
chancel.  The  young  preacher  was  indeed  the  American 
Lacordaire.  That  Frenchman,  who  died  before  he  was  sixty, 
and  who  was  one  of  the  great  triumvirate  of  which  La- 
mennais  and  Montalembert  were  a  part,  tried  to  harmon 
ize  the  largest  love  of  human  liberty  with  fervent  attach 
ment  to  the  Catholic  Church,  and  he  employed  journalism, 
with  his  two  associates,  as  an  early  agency  in  his  mission. 
The  American  also  had  served  as  an  editor  of  a  great  news 
paper,  and  to  that  school  was  undoubtedly  indebted  for  his 
large-hearted  liberality  and  copious  command  of  language. 
Lacordaire  was  singularly  graceful  in  form  and  style,  and 
seized  upon  the  current  topics  of  the  times  when  he  at 
tracted  his  immense  audiences  at  Notre  Dame,  and  the  same 
was  true  of  the  American. 

The  minister  emerged  from  the  vestry  while  the  organ 
was  sending  forth  a  strain  that  seemed  like  the  song  of  a 
choir  of  angels  floating  in  from  a  distance.  He  ascended 
the  sacred  desk  with  an  air  of  grace  and  dignity  which  at 
once  attracted  attention,  and  even  the  old  Earl  yielded  to  his 
conviction  that  the  American  presented  a  fine  presence,  for 
he  leaned  over  to  his  daughter  just  to  ask  :  "Are  you  sure 
that  he  was  born  in  the  United  States  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,"  she  replied.  "  The  Harrises  tell  me  that 
this  is  his  first  visit  to  Europe." 

The  Earl  made  no  reply,  but  he  fixed  a  searching  gaze 
upon  the  minister,  which  was  scarcely  removed  during  the 
service. 


AN  AMERICAN  EVANGEL.  43 

As  the  music  died  away  the  speaker  arose,  and,  taking  up 
a  neat  gold-edged  hymnal,  he  announced  those  beautiful  lines 
by  James  Montgomery  : 

"  Our  God  is  present  in  this  place, 

Veiled  in  celestial  majesty; 
So  full  of  glory,  truth,  and  grace, 
That  faith  alone  such  light  can  see." 

The  singing  was  congregational,  and  at  its  conclusion  a 
Scriptural  lesson  was  read,  and  a  very  fervent  and  compre 
hensive  prayer  was  offered.  Then  another  hymn  was  sung, 
and  a  collection  taken  for  the  benefit  of  the  British  Bible  So 
ciety,  which  had  incurred  a  great  expense  in  consequence  of 
the  free  distribution  of  the  Divine  Word  at  the  Exposition. 
The  appeal  for  a  liberal  contribution  was  not  in  vain.  The 
collection  plates  were  well  loaded  with  napoleons,  which  the 
Earl  did  not  fail  to  regard  as  a  very  proper  recognition  of  a 
"  British  "  society. 

After  announcing  the  text,  which  he  did  in  a  peculiarly 
reverential  tone,  the  clergyman  alluded  to  the  promised  thou 
sand  years  called  the  millennium.  Millennial  glory  was  the 
burden  of  prophetic  song.  It  was  the  grand  object  of  predic 
tion  from  one  end  of  the  sacred  book  to  the  other.  He  then 
brought  to  view  some  of  the  most  important  instructions  of 
the  Bible  touching  the  great  subject,  and  after  a  learned  but 
brief  exposition  of  the  doctrine,  he  led  his  hearers  into  the 
contemplation  of  the  present  as  contrasted  with  the  past,  with 
the  view  of  showing  what  mighty  changes  must  be  wrought 
in  the  condition  of  human  society  in  the  centuries  which  yet 
lie  embosomed  in  the  future. 

He  said  :  "  On  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  stands  a  noble  and 
colossal  triumph  of  Gothic  architecture,  the  foundation  of 
which  was  laid  over  six  hundred  years  ago.  Tens  of  thou 
sands  of  ardent  pilgrims  have  entered  Cologne  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  beholding  the  perfection  of  its  marvelous  details. 
And  where  the  Tiber  quietly  rolls  under  the  shadow  of  St. 
Peter's  there  is  an  imperial  collection  of  rich  paintings,  rare 


44  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

marbles,  and  elaborate  frescoes,  which  are  serving  the  world 
as  models,  for  we  have  no  such  ideals  in  these  times.  We 
gaze  in  admiration  at  these  contributions  from  the  human 
brain  and  heart  and  hand;  but  they  issued  out  of  along, 
slow  growth,  from  a  point  far  back  and  low  down  in  the  past. 
Go  back  into  that  past,  and  I  predict  that  you  will  discover 
little  to  praise.  You  will  find  a  very  rude  virtue  among  the 
few— nothing  more.  As  one  of  my  gifted  countrymen  once 
said  :  '  Were  you  to  sleep  where  men  slept  then,  and  eat  what 
men  ate  then,  and  do  what  men  had  to  do  then,  you  would 
break  out  into  the  most  piteous  moaning  and  whining  and 
complaining  that  ever  afflicted  human  ears.' 

"  In  that  long,  dark  night  of  the  world  there  were  a  few 
men  who,  according  to  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  carried 
in  their  brains  the  ovarium,  the  eggs  of  the  next  century's 
civilization.  They  have  been  given  to  every  age,  and  they 
have  not  lived  and  died  in  vain.  Their  names  start  to  life  as 
we  think  of  the  marvelous  changes  which  have  taken  place 
in  the  aspect  and  condition  of  human  affairs.  And  as  we 
are  so  far  in  advance  of  what  has  been,  so  the  future  shall 
exceed  everything  that  is  on  these  lines  of  thought,  genius, 
industry,  and  happiness. 

"  Since  I  have  been  in  Europe  the  cry  of  '  hard  times '  has 
fallen  upon  my  ears  without  cessation.  It  is  very  painful  to 
see  the  condition  of  the  struggling  masses  in  these  old  coun 
tries — the  men  who  do  the  real  work  that  a  few  may  live  in 
princely  luxury.  I  pity  those  who  lie  at  the  bottom  of  so 
ciety,  sans  comfort,  sans  money,  sans  friends,  sans  hope,  sans 
everything.  Oh,  let  us  sincerely  commiserate  all  who  must 
suffer  so  dreadful  an  experience  !  But  I  pray  you  to  remem 
ber  what  your  ancestors  were  in  those  centuries  long  gone. 
England  was  once  a  wilderness,  and  the  Greek  and  Roman 
merchants  used  to  give  shocking  accounts  of  the  ferocity  of 
the  nomadic  tribes  that  lived  there.  Where  the  great  cities 
of  London,  Birmingham,  York,  and  Carlisle  stand  to-day, 
your  ancestors  dwelt  in  the  rudest  huts,  with  the  ground  for 


AN  AMERICAN  EVANGEL.  45 

a  floor,  a  hole  in  the  center  for  a  fire,  and  another  in  the  roof 
to  let  the  smoke  out,  and  the  skin  of  a  wild  beast  served  as 
a  door.  It  was  many  generations  before  the  people  lived 
better. 

"  England  is  like  another  land.  But  it  has  a  very  large 
quota  of  poor  people.  So  have  we  in  America.  But  cross 
the  Atlantic  and  you  shall  see  a  wonderful  country,  not  only 
in  extent  and  in  population,  but  one  that  is  truly  the  best 
poor  man's  country  on  the  earth.  You  shall  see  the  real 
civilization  of  this  age  :  vast  flourishing  States,  crowded 
with  toilers  who  are  better  paid  than  ever  their  class  was 
before  ;  noble  institutions  for  free  education  ;  great  chari 
ties  in  every  city  and  town  ;  broad  avenues  and  streets, 
paved,  swept,  and  lighted ;  good  drainage  everywhere ; 
substantial  houses  for  rich  and  poor,  in  which  the  chambers 
are  carpeted  and  decorated  ;  cheerful  fires  and  light ;  libra 
ries  and  music  ;  paintings,  and  engravings,  and  etchings  ; 
churches,  and  asylums,  and  newspapers,  and  so  on  ad  infini- 
tum.  Truly,  we  can  not  be  thankful  enough  that  we  live 
in  the  nineteenth  century.  Our  civilization  is  brightening. 
Its  sun  is  gilding  the  mountain-tops  of  the  future  ;  a  still 
better  day  is  dawning  on  the  world." 

The  effect  of  this  fresh  and  peculiar  style  was  seen  on 
even  the  English,  as  the  American  proceeded  to  speak  of  the 
dawn  of  intelligence  and  the  advance  in  letters,  art,  and  sci 
ence  and  government.  The  discourse  closed  with  a  pane 
gyric  on  religion,  in  which  the  clergyman  said  : 

"  Even  of  much  of  the  skepticism  of  the  times,  it  must  be 
said  that  it  is  a  struggle  to  find  out  what  the  truth  is.  Like 
old  Aurelius,  men  are  stretching  out  their  hands  for  some 
thing  which  the  abstractions  of  the  schools  can  not  give.  Like 
one  of  the  Latin  sages,  they  want  a  God  who  can  speak  to 
them  and  lead  them.  And  they  shall  yet  be  satisfied  in  Him 
who  could  look  through  human  eyes,  and  shed  human  tears, 
and  hear  with  human  ears,  and  love  with  a  human  heart. 
Reason  does  not  rise  up  against  the  divine  and  human  one 
because  he  is  not  real,  but  because  he  is  an  unparalleled  and 


46  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

startling  fact.  St.  Paul  was  right :  '  Without  controversy, 
great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness.  God  was  manifested  in 
the  flesh.' 

"  And  as  the  world  moves  on  to  its  brightest  and  best  day, 
God  has  written  on  its  horizon,  in  letters  of  light,  '  Pro 
gress  ! '  Humanity  is  looking  toward  fairer  skies,  and  God, 
who  beholds  all  the  dwellers  upon  earth,  bids  them  '  go  for 
ward,'  as  he  did  his  ancient  people.  There  may  be  Red  Seas 
and  broad  wildernesses  and  open  enemies  yet  to  be  met  and 
mastered,  but  they  will  all  disappear  as  the  spirit  of  the  liv 
ing  God  leads  the  way." 

Here  the  service  ended  with  an  earnest  prayer,  a  song  of 
praise,  and  the  apostolic  benediction. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

A   RETURN   TO   NATURE. 

THERE  is  a  certain  magnetism  in  men  as  in  minerals,  espe 
cially  when  it  is  aroused  by  any  exciting  cause — devotion  to 
country,  for  instance.  It  draws  men  together  into  an  army 
which  strikes  and  slays  as  if  it  were  with  a  single  sword.  It 
so  chanced  on  this  occasion.  Henry  Harris  had  some  time 
before  this  been  brought  into  a  degree  of  companionship 
with  Lord  Conyngham.  The  nobleman  had  apologized  so 
heartily  for  the  rudeness  which  had  characterized  his  first 
meeting  with  them  that  the  family  had  made  a  point  to  show 
him  how  entirely  they  had  forgiven  the  matter.  But  Henry 
Harris  was  specially  attracted  to  Lord  Conyngham.  They 
were  both  young  and  full  of  an  energy  which  had  not  been 
sapped  and  squandered  in  vicious  indulgences.  Moreover, 
there  had  been  a  certain  outspoken  boldness  in  the  conduct 
of  the  exasperated  patrician  which  showed  that,  however 
wrong  and  violent,  he  was  not  a  mere  fop,  smiling  and  nerve 
less. 


A  RETURN  TO  NATURE.  47 

Lord  Conyngham  had  long  been  familiar  with  the  repu 
tation  of  George  Harris.  He  knew  that,  like  Peter  the  Great, 
he  was  one  of  the  creators  of  commerce  and  wealth,  and  he 
admired  him  as  one  always  admires  force.  Moreover,  the 
young  lord  had  stirring  within  him  the  ideas  of  a  new  era, 
and  one  of  these  was  that  he  who  organizes  men  into  bands 
of  skilled  workmen  is  nobler  than  even  a  Frederick  the  Great 
with  his  thoroughly  drilled  grenadiers  ;  that  the  master  me 
chanic  who  hurls  his  iron  across  an  empire  in  railways  is 
nobler  by  far  than  a  Napoleon  who  sweeps  it  with  grapeshot. 
The  mortification  of  the  young  man  at  discovering  who  it 
was  he  had  so  thoughtlessly  offended  was  intense,  the  more 
so  as  he  came  to  know  the  family  better,  and  he  cordially 
reciprocated  every  evidence  of  their  good-will. 

One  day  when  there  happened  to  be,  as  was  often  the 
case,  a  sharp  discussion  at  the  Bodega  concerning  America, 
many  things  said  by  Americans  present  had  savored  of 
boasting.  Lord  Conyngham  chanced  to  be  standing  near 
Henry  Harris.  Neither  took  part  in  the  discussion,  but  the 
American  had  observed  with  pleasure  the  interest  with  which 
his  friend  had  listened.  There  was  a  rising  color  in  the 
young  nobleman's  cheek,  a  kindling  light  in  his  eyes,  which 
caused  Henry  Harris  to  say  to  him  : 

"  Of  course  I  believe  in  America,  but  you  must  not  think 
that  we  believe  in  brag." 

"  By  no  means,"  the  other  hastened  to  say. 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  if  there  be  a  thing,"  Henry  Harris 
added,  "  which  I  particularly  detest,  it  is  anything  that  looks 
like  self-conceit.  We  had  an  American  statesman  of  brilliant 
qualities  and  splendid  services  whom  neither  my  father  nor 
myself  could  endure.  If  you  look  at  his  portrait,  or  his  bust, 
you  will  understand  why.  He  is  the  very  symbol  of  arro 
gance.  I  saw  a  marble  head  of  him  in  the  Exposition  last 
week,  and  I  almost  shook  my  fist  at  it  when  no  one  saw  me. 
'  For  you,'  I  said, '  to  have  your  head  thrown  back  in  haughty 
defiance  is  sheer  affectation.  Other  men  might  do  it,  but 
although  pure  yourself,  you  know  our  political  defects  too 


4.8  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

well.'  There  are  faults  in  our  American  civilization,  my 
lord,"  Henry  Harris  added  gravely,  "terrible  evils,  which 
may  wreck  us  some  day.  Our  country  is  colossal  in  this  also. 
Besides,  for  me  to  be  conceited  because  I  happen  to  be  born 
in  the  Great  Republic  is  as  if  a  fish  were  elated  because  it 
was  born  in  the  Atlantic.  But  I  must  leave  you." 

"  I  will  walk  with  you  ; "  and  as  they  gained  the  pave 
ment  Lord  Conyngham  added,  "  Where  do  you  happen  to  be 
going?" 

"  My  sister  and  mother  begged  me,"  the  other  replied, 
"  to  meet  them  by  a  certain  old  statue  in  a  little  forest  near 
Versailles.  They  have  taken  a  sudden  fancy  to  have  a  kind 
of  picnic.  Here  is  my  carriage." 

As  young  Harris  said  it,  he  saw  a  species  of  desire  yet 
hesitation  in  the  eyes  of  the  other  which  caused  him  to  add 
frankly,  "  If  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  my  lord,  I  would 
be  delighted  to  have  you  ride  with  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  his  companion  replied,  "  but  I  also  am  en 
gaged  to  ride  with  my  sister  Blanche.  Versailles,  did  you 
say  ?  " 

The  other  caught  at  his  meaning.  "  Join  us  there,"  he 
begged.  "  It  is  a  glorious  day  ;  my  mother  and  sister  will 
be  delighted  to  see  Lady  Blanche  and  yourself." 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  some  hours  later  that  these  five 
persons  were  seated  together  upon  the  rustic  benches  in  one 
of  the  most  secluded  nooks  near  Versailles.  Lord  Conyng 
ham  and  his  sister  had  come  on  horseback,  but  at  the  urgent 
invitation  of  the  American  ladies  Lady  Blanche  had  dis 
mounted,  "  if  only  for  a  moment,"  they  said,  and  with  her 
brother  had  sat  down  among  them. 

"  There  must  be  something  of  Eden  itself  in  the  air  to 
day,"  Mary  Harris  said,  after  they  had  talked  for  a  time 
upon  a  variety  of  topics.  "  I  could  not  endure  to  stay  in  the 
house.  Paris  itself  was  too  close  and  confining.  I  am  like 
my  brother — I  want  to  be  in  the  open  air  whenever  the  sun 
shines." 

Evidently  all  present  were  of  the  same  opinion.     It  may 


A  RETURN  TO  NATURE.  49 

have  been  the  verdure  of  the  grass  beneath  them,  the  trees 
clustering  about  them  as  if  Nature  would  clasp  them  to  her 
bosom  with  the  embraces  of  her  leafy  boughs,  the  soothing 
seclusion  which  came  to  them  like  the  sound  of  tempest  upon 
the  roof  in  the  distant  roar  of  city  noises,  but  the  same  mood 
was,  for  the  moment,  upon  all.  They  were  wearied  with  the 
wonders  of  the  Exposition,  and  the  repose  was,  for  the  time, 
more  delightful  than  sleep. 

And  thus  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  that  Henry  Harris 
should  find  himself  talking  at  last  of  his  wildwood  experi 
ences.  Two  years  before  he  had  returned  to  America  upon 
business  for  his  father  among  the  iron  mines  of  the  West,  for 
it  was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  railway  king  to  go,  so 
far  as  possible,  to  the  fountain-head  for  his  iron,  as  he  did 
for  his  science  and  his  principles.  His  matters  had  taken 
less  time  than  he  had  supposed,  and  young  Harris  had  ac 
cepted  an  invitation  from  a  hunting-party,  and  had  gone  a 
thousand  miles  or  so  farther  west.  He  could  not  sit  still  as 
it  came  back  to  him  now.  Getting  upon  his  feet  as  he  talked, 
he  stood  beside  one  of  the  towering  trees,  his  hat  cast  upon 
the  turf,  his  cheeks  glowing. 

"  I  had  been  upon  the  steppes  of  Tartary,  but  this  was 
different,"  he  said.  "  It  was  not  only  that  the  American 
plains  were  more  fertile,  and  every  way  better  stocked  with 
game,  and  beautiful,  but  that  I  realized  that  it  was  the  New 
and  not  the  Old  World  I  was  in.  Here  was  neither  peasant 
nor  czar.  Ah,  ladies,  you  can  not  imagine  how  delightful  it 
was  !  "  And  he  told  them  of  the  prairie,  rolling  east,  west, 
north,  and  south,  like  another  Pacific  ;  of  the  peculiar  trans 
parency  which  made  the  remote  mountains  by  day  and  the 
moon  and  stars  by  night  seem  so  near  ;  of  the  keen  exhilara 
tion,  as  if  there  were  champagne  in  the  very  air  and  oxygen 
even  in  the  brilliant  moonlight. 

"  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "  it  was  fun  alive  spearing  big 
fish  in  the  canons,  shooting  deer,  charging  down  upon  buffalo 
moving  in  battalions.  And  then  we  had  a  hand-to-hand  fight 
with  a  cinnamon  bear  or  two.  It  looked  like  murder  to  kill 


50  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

prairie-hens  and  antelope,  but  your  conscience  cheered  you 
on  instead  when  it  came  to  a  fair  fight  with  a  grizzly.  You 
see,  it  was  by  no  means  so  certain  that  he  would  be  the  one 
to  be  killed.  It  was  a  question  even  more  doubtful  when, 
soon  after,  I  had  an  unavoidable  '  difficulty,'  as  it  is  called, 
with  a  desperado  from  Pike  County.  You  must  pardon  my 
enthusiasm,"  he  added,  hesitating,  and  with  something  of  a 
flush,  "but  I  found  myself  back  in  my  boyhood  out  there, 
and  it  makes  me  a  boy  again  merely  to  think  about  it.  Boys 
like  to  eat,  you  know.  Well,  I  never  knew,  even  when  I 
was  a  hungry  boy,  what  sincere  pleasure  there  is  in  eating 
as  I  found  it  to  be  then.  When  we  rode  of  an  evening 
into  camp,  tired,  wet,  with  perhaps  a  bruise  or  two  ;  excuse 
me,  but,  ah  !  how  delicious  the  coffee  did  smell,  and  the  trout, 
the  wild  honey,  the  juicy  buffalo-steaks,  the  bits  of  antelope 
and  venison.  These  Frenchmen,  with  all  their  sauces  and 
cookery,  know  nothing  about  it.  They  do  not  have  the  appe 
tite,  you  see — appetite  which  is  at  once  boundless  and  ex 
quisite  ! " 

"  Why,  Henry  ! "  his  mother  said,  "  we  would  think  you 
were — " 

"  An  epicure  ?  No,  madam,"  her  son  interrupted  her  with 
a  joyous  face  ;  "  I  was  Adam  back  again  in  Paradise  !  One 
never  knows  how  delicious  a  drink  of  water  is  until  you 
stop  from  a  hot  ride,  to  lie  down  upon  your  breast  at  a  moun 
tain  spring,  and  drink,  with  your  face  in  the  water,  and 
drink,  and  drink,  and  dr— "  But  his  words  were  drowned 
in  laughter  ;  he  seemed  to  be  so  much  in  earnest. 

"  And  there  is  sleep,"  he  began  again. 

"Sleep?"  Lady  Blanche  asked,  opening  her  beautiful 
eyes. 

"Yes,  Lady  Blanche,  sleep,"  the  other  persisted.  "In 
this  artificial  life  of  ours  we  lie  down  and  wake  up  as  a 
matter  of  course.  No  one  thinks  anything  of  the  quality  of 
his  sleep.  It  was  different  out  there.  We  would  halt  at 
night,  kindle  our  camp-fire  in  the  bottom  of  a  hole  for  fear  of 
drawing  the  Indians  upon  us,  cook  and  eat  an  enormous 


A  RETURN  TO  NATURE.  51 

supper.  Then  every  man  would  change  his  horse  to  a  new 
patch  of  grass.  We  staked  them  out,  you  know.  After 
that  we  would  lie  down,  our  feet  toward  the  fire,  our  heads 
upon  our  saddles,  in  the  deep,  soft,  aromatic,  mesquit  turf. 
Next  you  took  a  good  look,  as  you  lay,  at  the  immeasurable 
sky  overhead,  thought  of  the  almost  immeasurable  America 
about  you,  inhaled  a  full  breath  from  the  pure  air,  drew 
your  felt  hat  over  your  eyes  to  keep  out  the  sun-like  splen 
dors  of  the  moon  and  stars,  and  then  you  slept,  slept,  slept! 
It  was  like — like  eating  pudding,"  he  added,  with  a  laugh. 
"There  was  an  absolute  pleasure,  gratification  in  it,  satis 
faction  ;  I  mean  such,  I  suppose,  as  babies  have.  Ah,  when 
you  woke  in  a  flash,  with  the  sun  high  up,  it  seemed  to  be 
all  over  in  a  moment,  but  it  was  grand  !  " 

The  young  American  had  become  a  boy  again  as  he 
spoke,  and  a  very  handsome  one,  the  ladies  thought.  His 
enthusiasm  had  changed  those  around  him  into  children  also. 
It  was  a  sensation  wholly  new  to  Lord  Conyngham  and  his 
sister.  Accustomed  from  birth  to  a  ceremonious  life,  one  of 
routine  and  social  tyranny,  nature  asserted  itself  in  them. 
They  recognized  the  truth  of  what  young  Harris  had  said, 
as  thirst  does  water. 

"  A  leading  English  magazine  lately  spoke,"  Lord  Conyng 
ham  said,  after  a  good  deal  of  further  conversation,  "  of 
your  "West  under  the  title  of  '  our  great  wheat-fields  ; '  ours, 
you  observe.  The  fact  is,  we  are  at  last  but  one  people." 

It  was  sincerely  assented  to  as  the  party  broke  up.  So 
far  as  England  and  America  were  represented  by  those 
present,  the  unity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  was  becoming 
apparently  a  substantial  fact.  Possibly  this  idea  occurred 
to  Henry  Harris  with  special  clearness  as  he  took  leave  of 
Lady  Blanche.  The  young  nobleman  had  carefully  refrained 
from  glancing  at  Mary  Harris  when  he  laid  down  his  propo 
sitions,  and  the  American  girl  must  have  had  some  other 
reason  for  coloring  so  when  her  eyes  fell  in  the  general 
assent  which  followed. 


52  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

HASSAN    PASHA. 

As  has  been  said,  wherever  in  Europe  the  household  of 
George  Harris  chanced  to  be,  the  place  they  enjoyed  most  was 
that  which  for  the  time  they  called  their  home.  Whether  it 
was  in  their  rooms  at  the  hotel,  or  under  the  striped  tents 
which  shielded  them  from  a  Syrian  sun,  it  was  there  they 
found,  whatever  the  landscape  which  lay  around  them,  how 
ever  interesting  the  city  in  which  they  sojourned,  their  chief 
happiness.  However  fatigued  by  the  travel  or  the  wonders 
of  the  day,  an  hour  or  two  was  sure  to  be  spent  by  them 
together  at  night  in  summing  up  and  comparing  impressions 
as  to  the  events  of  the  hours  going  before.  This  was  to  the 
older,  as  to  the  younger  people,  really  the  most  enjoyable 
time  of  all. 

Upon  one  such  evening  in  Paris,  not  long  after  the  little 
episode  at  Versailles,  the  family  had  been  passing  in  review 
all  they  had  seen  in  the  Exposition  since  their  coming. 
Except  the  father,  each  had  given  his  or  her  opinion  as  to 
what  had  been  best  worth  seeing. 

"  And  now,  papa,  what  do  you  like  best  ?  "  Mary  Harris 
asked  in  the  end. 

"  The  people,"  her  father  replied.  "  The  pictures,  the 
various  fabrics,  the  machinery  are  interesting,  of  course,  but 
I  am  most  interested  in  those  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
who  have  produced  the  objects  we  all  admire.  From  the 
first  I  have  found  my  attention  riveted  upon  these.  Many 
of  the  wonders  in  the  Exposition  are  duplicates,  but  no  two 
of  these  men  and  women  are  exactly  alike.  Whatever  the 
nationality,  people,"  Mr.  Harris  added,  "  interest  me — there 
is  no  other  word  which  expresses  it — beyond  their  art,  their 
science,  their  religion.  Every  day  I  find  myself  turning 
more  and  more  from  what  a  man  says  or  does  to  the  man 
himself." 

"  The  future  of  the  world — and  it  will  be  as  much  more 


HASSAN  PASHA.  53 

wonderful  than  to-day  as  to-day  is  beyond  a  century  ago — 
the  future,"  Henry  Harris  assented,  "  is  with  the  people." 

And  this  was  another  peculiarity  of  George  Harris.  To 
Earl  Dorrington,  the  multitude  through  which  he  passed 
was  little  more  than  a  swarm  of  insects.  If  pressed,  he 
would  have  acknowledged  that  he  belonged  to  the  same 
species,  and  yet  the  habit  of  his  life  was  to  except  English 
men  from  men  in  general  as  the  heaven-born  superiors  of  the 
rest  of  the  race,  and  himself  as  of  a  divinely  appointed  line 
age,  even  more  loftily  superior  to  the  masses  of  England 
than  were  these  to  such  lesser  infusoria  as  the  Spanish  or 
the  Italians.  The  last  Bourbon  of  the  line,  Henry  V,  as 
he  styles  himself,  was  not  more  intensely  a  legitimist. 
George  Harris  was,  on  the  other  hand,  in  ready  sympathy 
with  every  man  he  met,  and  from  whatever  country.  En 
tirely  at  his  ease  with  earl  as  with  czar,  he  was  almost  as 
courteous  to  his  courier  or  his  porter  as  to  these.  To  him 
the  grand  old  Tory  nobleman  was  but  one  of  many  millions 
of  men,  in  not  one  of  whom  there  was  not  something  to 
deplore,  but  much  also  to  admire.  The  Earl  was  insular,  in 
plain  words,  provincial.  The  American  was  metropolitan, 
a  noble  of  the  Order  of  the  Universe.  The  fact  must  be 
added,  if  the  Earl  was  proud,  George  Harris  was,  in  a  sense, 
as  much  more  so  as  his  order  was  grander  and  more  enduring. 

It  was  by  reason  of  his  interest  in  people  that  George 
Harris  was  never  so  happy  as  when  in  conversation  with 
some  one  among  the  throngs  in  Paris  who  was  a  distinct 
type  of  his  own  land.  Among  these  was  an  Oriental  per 
sonage — Hassan  Pasha  by  name — who  was  known  all  over 
Europe  for  his  reckless  splendor  of  living,  the  high  stakes 
he  played  at  the  public  gambling-tables  and  at  private 
games  of  hazard,  the  great  sums  he  had  lost  and  won,  his 
profligacy  of  morals,  his  elegance  of  manner,  and  the  ele 
vated  positions  he  had  held  in  the  foreign  and  domestic 
service  of  his  government.  It  was  his  wealth  and  family 
influence,  rather  than  his  personal  qualities,  which  paved  the 
way  to  the  important  dignities  which  he  had  enjoyed.  There 


54  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

was  something  sphinx-like  in  the  expression  of  his  features. 
The  eye  scrutinized  you  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  to  pene 
trate  your  inmost  thoughts,  but  it  revealed  nothing  of  tl*e 
workings  of  the  mind  and  heart  of  its  master.  It  was  clear 
and  lustrous,  as  the  Oriental  eye  always  is,  but  it  seemed  to 
be  trained  to  absorb,  not  reflect  impressions.  It  was  drilled 
and  disciplined  to  such  a  degree  that  it  never  lost  its  self- 
control,  so  to  speak.  There  was  a  studied  reserve  in  his 
conversation  and  bearing,  also,  that  puzzled  and  mystified, 
and  yet  fascinated.  Piqued  at  the  impenetrability  of  this 
strange  nature,  one  was  always  seeking  to  find  some  crevice 
in  the  armor  through  which  a  lance  might  be  thrust.  He 
read  others,  but  he  would  not  allow  them  to  read  him  ;  not 
that  he  was  a  better  judge  of  character,  but  because  he  had 
perfect  mastery  of  himself.  He  had  asked  to  be  introduced 
to  George  Harris  that  he  might  make  the  acquaintance  of  his 
daughter. 

"I  have  always  admired,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Harris  after 
ward,  "  your  countrywomen.  In  the  East  we  are  accustomed 
to  one  style  of  beauty,  but  the  Americans  seem  to  blend 
together  the  choicest  charms  of  the  finest  types  of  the  Old 
World.  I  presume  it  is  from  the  commingling  of  races.  As 
Rome  was  formed  out  of  various  peoples,  and  a  new  and 
improved  race  was  created,  so  the  Americans  in  every  sense 
of  the  word  may  be  regarded  as  a  new  stock,  strongly  differ 
ing  in  many  respects  from  their  ancestors." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  "  the  moral  stagnation  of  the 
East  leads  to  physical  degeneracy." 

"  Not  at  all  ;  physically,  the  people  of  the  East  are  among 
the  finest  specimens  of  humanity.  From  them  sprang  the 
great  Aryan  race  that  has  overspread  the  world,  the  fore 
most  in  the  march  of  civilization  and  in  intellectual  ability. 
The  only  difference  between  you  and  us  is  that  Christianity 
promotes  progress,  free  institutions,  and  activity  in  every 
department  of  life.  Mussulmanism  is  perhaps  too  conserva 
tive,  too  much  inclined  to  adhere  to  the  past,  and  too  dis 
trustful  of  the  future  to  plunge  into  the  bold  enterprises 


HASSAN  PASHA.  55 

which  keep  Christian  countries  in  a  state  of  perpetual  agita 
tion.  I  admit  your  superiority  in  the  arts  of  civilization, 
but  I  do  not  think  the  time  will  ever  come  when  the  West 
will  subdue  the  East.  The  Orientals  follow  the  practices 
and  profess  the  religion  which,  bating  certain  modifications, 
the  progenitors  of  Christianity  professed  four  thousand  years 
ago.  Mussulmanism,  instead  of  being  a  dead  faith,  is  not 
only  at  this  day  professed  by  nearly  two  hundred  millions  of 
people,  but  it  is  spreading  with  wonderful  rapidity  over 
pagan  Africa.  By  the  aid  of  twenty  million  Moslems  resi 
dent  in  China,  it  threatens  to  become  the  dominant  religion 
in  that  vast  empire,  and  it  is  undermining  in  India  Bud 
dhism,  Brahminism,  and  all  other  of  the  opposing  Eastern 
creeds.  The  Moslem  Caliph  may  be  compelled  to  abandon 
Constantinople  to  the  Giaours  and  to  retire  with  the  faithful 
into  Asia,  the  cradle  of  our  faith  and  race,  but  that  will  not 
blight  the  prospects  of  Mussulmanism." 

"  Is  woman,"  timidly  asked  Mary  Harris,  who  was  pres 
ent,  "  for  ever  to  remain  in  the  East  in  her  present  abject 
condition  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  look  upon  her  position  in  the  same  light  you 
do,"  the  Oriental  replied  with  a  bow  and  in  smoother  ac 
cents.  "  She  is  with  us  precisely  as  she  was  during  all  the 
Patriarchal  period,  such  as  is  described  in  your  holy  book, 
which  you  call  by  the  same  name  as  we  do  ours — the  Bible, 
Koran,  or  Book.  We  do  not  think  she  was  created  to  in-- 
vade  man's  sphere,  but  always  to  be  his  comforter,  helpmate, 
and  slave.  When  she  leaves  the  domestic  retirement  which 
is  the  proper  theatre  of  her  existence,  we  think  she  loses  her 
natural  delicacy  and  unsexes  herself." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Harris,  "  I  see  I  can  not  convert  you 
to  our  way  of  thinking.  I  must  confess  I  admire  to  a  cer 
tain  degree  the  confidence  you  feel  in  your  destiny  and  the 
faith  you  have  in  the  future ;  but  how  is  it  that  with  all  this 
Oriental  intensity  of  feeling  the  Turks  have  always  been  so 
friendly  to  the  United  States  ?  I  hope  it  is  because  you 
sympathize  with  our  people  and  their  institutions." 


56 


THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 


"  Don't  deceive  yourselves,"  answered  the  other.  "  We 
like  the  Americans  simply  because  they  let  us  alone  and  do 
not  interfere  with  us  as  the  English,  Russians,  and  French 
are  constantly  doing.  The  truth  is,  we  know  very  little 
about  you,  except  that  in  a  short  time  you  have  become  a 
powerful  nation,  and  that  you  are  undermining  the  prosperity 
of  our  enemies.  We  wish  you  well,  and  that  is  more  than  I 
can  say  of  other  Christian  nations.  But  let  us  dismiss  this 
discussion,  for  we  are  trenching  on  subjects  of  conversation 
unsuited  to  neutral  ground  such  as  this." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LOVE   FIFTY   TEAKS   AGO. 

ONE  evening  the  family  of  George  Harris  were  assembled 
as  usual  in  the  parlor  of  their  hotel.  They  had  seen  of  late 
many  a  painting,  historical  and  otherwise,  but,  unconscious 
as  they  were  of  it,  they  themselves  composed  a  group  which 
contained  within  itself  profound  significance.  Beside  her 
husband  upon  the  sofa  sat  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris,  a  certain 
breadth  in  her  brows,  a  soft  yet  steady  command  in  her  eyes, 
which  breathed  of  motherhood  and  serene  common  sense. 
Place  a  crown  upon  her  head,  a  scepter  in  her  hand,  and  she 
would  have  satisfied  your  conception  of  an  empress,  and  yet 
she  was  saying  to  her  son  and  daughter: 

"  Yes,  when  your  father  married  me  I  was  as  poor  as 
himself.  As  you  know,  Henry,  my  father  was  a  wheel 
wright.  He  was  as  honest  and  industrious  as  my  mother 
was  good  and  loving,  but  misfortunes  came.  My  brothers 
died,  my  mother  became  an  invalid,  my  father  was  disabled 
by  the  falling  upon  him  of  a  wagon  beneath  which  he  was  at 
work.  I  was  not  more  than  fourteen  when  the  support  of 
the  household  devolved  upon  me.  It  is  strange,"  Mrs.  Har 
ris  added,  thoughtfully,  "  I  was  a  frail,  timid  girl,  yet  the 


LOVE  FIFTY  YEARS  AGO.  57 

very  pressure  of  things  seemed  suddenly  to  change  my  whole 
nature.  I  worked  for  a  dressmaker,  I  walked  miles  at  a 
$ime  to  carry  my  bundles  to  customers,  I  read  and  went  to 
school  as  much  as  I  could  between  times,  and  my  health 
became  strong.  It  was  as  if  a  new  life  had  arisen  within 
me ;  I  was  happier  than  I  could  possibly  have  been  other 
wise.  And  then — " 

"  And  then  I  met  her  going  home  one  Saturday,"  her  hus 
band  interrupted.  "  Her  face  was  at  once  the  brightest  and 
the  best  I  had  ever  seen.  Such  a  thing  as  marriage  had  not 
entered  my  mind  before.  How  could  I  afford  a  sweetheart 
and  wife,  with  the  attendance  at  concerts,  the  confection 
ery,  and  dresses  it  involved  ?  Yet  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  open 
face,  as  sweet  as  it  was  sensible,  as  strong  as  it  was  pure, 
as—" 

But  the  wife  had  laid  her  hand  upon  her  husband's  lips, 
blushing  as  she  did  so  like  a  girl,  and  the  son  and  daughter 
laughed  aloud. 

"  Oh,  well,"  the  husband  continued,  holding  his  wife's 
hand  in  his  own,  "  I  was  a  hard-tasked  mechanic,  working 
all  day,  and  reading  as  much  as  I  could  at  night.  Nobody 
as  I  was,  your  mother  took  compassion  on  me,  and —  " 

"I  only  hope  you  will  be  as  true  and  manly  a  man, 
Henry."  It  was  Mrs.  Harris's  turn  to  interrupt  now.  "  To 
me  your  father  was  the  king  of  men,  but  I  would  not  allow 
even  him  to  help  me  support  my  parents.  We  loved  for 
a  long  time  before  we  could  unite  our  fortunes.  It  was  a 
year  after,  first  my  mother  and  then  my  father  died,  that  we 
were  married." 

"  It  is  not  often  we  talk  of  such  matters,"  Mr.  Harris 
added,  "  but  let  me  say,  for  once  and  all,  that  my  marrying 
your  mother  was  the  wisest  thing  I  ever  did.  From  our  first 
acquaintance  we  were  companions  in  the  truest  sense  of  the 
word.  I  have  never  taken  a  step  until  after  consultation  with 
my  wife.  In  every  practical  sense,  she  has  been  of  inesti 
mable  help  to  me,"  and  the  husband  lifted  the  hand  of  his 
wife  to  his  lips,  and  kissed  it.  Sincerer  homage  empress 


58  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

never  had,  but  the  son  and  daughter  glanced  at  each  other 
with  a  smile.  There  was  nothing  they  had  known  better, 
and  from  their  childhood,  than  the  influence  upon  their 
father,  as  upon  them,  of  their  mother. 

"  Let  me  say  only  this,"  George  Harris  continued,  "  that 
your  mother  was  of  most  service  to  me  when  I  began  to 
prosper.  It  is  almost  impossible  for  a  man  not  to  become  a 
little  intoxicated  as  money  begins  to  pour  in,  but  it  was  your 
mother  who  calmed  me  in  prosperity  as  she  had  aroused  and 
encouraged  me  in  our  days  of  adversity,  for  we  had  dark 
times  also,  I  assure  you." 

The  man  who  spoke  was  broad  of  chest  and  strong  of 
limb.  There  was  a  certain  square  solidity  about  his  counte 
nance.  His  head  and  beard  were  white,  his  eyebrows  bushy, 
his  manner,  like  his  voice  and  his  gait,  was  steady  and  de 
liberate.  For  more  than  half  a  century  he  had  dealt  so 
closely  and  exclusively  in  iron  that  his  entire  nature  had 
assimilated  itself,  in  the  best  senses  at  least,  to  that  metal. 
So  much  was  there  of  system  and  of  sternness  in  his  whole 
aspect,  that  his  imperial  employers,  as  well  as  the  thousands 
whom  he  employed,  understood,  and  from  the  outset,  that 
here  was  a  person  not  to  be  trifled  with.  That  he  was  not  a 
tyrant,  a  Nero  of  the  workshop,  a  Caligula  of  the  tunnel  and 
the  railway  bridge,  was,  and  to  a  degree  of  which  even  he 
himself  had  no  conception,  owing  to  his  wife,  for  although  in 
a  purely  womanly  sense,  she  was  stronger  than  he.  Not  that 
he  was  not  always  iron,  but  that,  in  the  uncooling  ardor  of 
his  affection  for  her,  he  was  as  molten  iron  in  her  hands,  and 
she  gave  direction  and  shape,  and  in  a  measure  of  which  she 
herself  was  unconscious,  to  all  that  he  was  and  did. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  we  came  to  talk  of  such  things," 
George  Harris  continued  after  a  while,  "  but  there  is  one 
thing  more  I  wish  to  add,  and  then  we  will  speak  of  some 
thing  else.  The  longer  I  live,  Henry,  Mary,  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  grandest  quality  at  last  is  that  most  uncommon  of 
all  things,  which  we  call  common  sense.  Let  me  say  it  but 
this  once,  my  dear  Margaret— your  mother,  children,  is  the 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  59 

most  sensible  woman  I  ever  knew — sensible  !  You  are  laugh 
ing,  Harry;  well,  perhaps  I  have  said  that  before.  But  I  say 
it  now  because  I  want  to  tell  you  what  is  the  secret  of  her 
sense,  of  all  sense.  You  know  I  am  not  a  religious  man.  Al 
most  all  my  life  I  have  been  so  situated  that  it  was  impossi 
ble  for  me  to  go  to  church,  even  to  know  when  Sunday  came 
for  that  matter,  at  times  at  least.  Very  well.  But,  from 
the  hour  I  first  knew  her,  the  soul  and  sweetness  of  your 
mother's  excellent  sense  has  been  her  steady  faith  in  God. 
That  is  all." 

At  this  moment  visitors  were  announced,  and  soon  after 
the  parlors  were  a  scene  of  lively  conversation,  a  little  excel 
lent  music  now  and  then,  and  a  good  deal  of  laughter  and 
enjoyment. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BROTHER   AND   SISTER. 

AMONG  the  many  American  families  in  Paris  during  the 
Exposition  there  was  none  whose  rooms  were  more  fre 
quented  than  those  of  George  Harris.  There  were  some  in 
which  there  was  a  more  lavish  display  of  wealth,  others  in 
which  literature  and  art  had  a  stronger  sway,  but  in  none  did 
people  seem  to  enjoy  themselves  more.  No  one  asked  him 
self  or  herself  why  it  was,  but  there  was  a  certain  alternative 
from  Parisian  life  therein  which  was  turned  to  as  a  relief. 
Neither  in  the  head  of  the  family  nor  in  his  matronly  wife 
was  there  a  particle  of  affectation,  and  the  children  of  such 
parents  had  too  much  of  their  father  and  mother  in  their  life 
long  training,  as  well  as  in  their  blood,  not  to  resemble  them. 
Once  properly  introduced,  and  you  felt  as  much  at  home 
with  Henry  Harris  as  if  you  had  come  upon  him  on  a  fishing 
excursion.  He  was  most  like  his  mother,  especially  as  there 
was  much  of  her  gentle  energy,  too,  in  his  eyes  and  bearing. 
He  had  not  struggled  upward  as  his  father  had  done  ;  had, 


60  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

so  to  speak,  none  of  the  scars  of  the  contest.  The  prosperity 
of  the  family  began  before  he  was  born,  and  he  had  been 
carefully  educated.  In  fact,  his  father  would  gladly  have 
given  him  a  university  training.  Like  most  men  who  had 
educated  themselves,  Mr.  Harris  had  a  sort  of  superstition 
in  regard  to  an  academic  course,  an  idea  that  it  imparted 
subtile  and  mysterious  faculties  as  well  as  attainments.  But 
the  son  was  too  much  like  the  parents  from  whose  origi 
nal  nature  he  had  sprung  to  consent,  and  he  decided  to 
enter  into  the  business  of  his  father  ;  decided  with  so  much 
inherited  decision  that  there  was  nothing  for  his  father  to 
do  but  to  yield,  and  with  a  secret  satisfaction,  too,  to  his 
choice.  Speaking  Russian,  German,  and  French  ;  having 
had  all  the  advantage  of  travel  and  association  with  the  best 
society  ;  kept  by  his  intimacy  with  his  mother  and  sister 
from  wild  courses,  young  Harris  was,  with  his  open  brow  and 
fine  eyes  and  frank  ways,  the  most  popular  of  men. 

Mary  Harris  was  some  three  years  younger  than  her 
brother.  Strange  to  say,  she  was,  as  has  been  said,  most  like 
her  father,  except  that  his  features,  eyes,  very  character,  had 
been  so  refined  and  transformed  in  her  that  people  wondered 
at  her  loveliness  even  while  they  were  struck  with  her  like 
ness  to  her  rugged  parent.  Dearly  as  she  loved  her  mother, 
she  seemed  to  cling  even  more  closely  to  him  ;  while  her 
brother  retained  for  his  mother  an  almost  childlike  affection. 
He  had  been  one  of  the  rare  instances  of  a  boy  in  love  with 
his  mother,  and  he  was  only  the  more  so  now  than  when  he 
had  worn  frills  upon  his  bosom  and  trimming  upon  his  little 
jacket.  None  the  less  was  he  the  manliest  of  men  ;  such  a 
mother  could  have  been  so  loved  only  by  a  youth  of  that 
sort.  Although  she  hid  it,  her  love  for  her  son  was  the  one 
direction  in  which  Mrs.  Harris's  common  sense  was  threat 
ened  with  being  overmastered.  Toward  him  she  was  like  a 
girl  again,  because  he  was  to  her  so  much  of  what  his  father 
had  been  when  she  first  knew  him. 

"  One  can  not  help  liking  them,"  Lady  Blanche  said  one 
morning  of  the  Harris  household  to  her  father,  the  Earl. 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  61 

"  There  is  an  air  of  nature  and  freedom  about  them  which 
one  so  rarely  finds.  I  hate  to  live  in  the  ball-room  and  the 
opera-house  for  ever.  One  becomes  as  weary  of  one's  retinue 
of  admirers  as  one  does  of  her  trains  of  silk  and  velvet." 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  your  associating  with  the  people 
of  whom  you  speak,  up  to  a  definite  point,"  the  old  noble 
man  replied.  "  We  are  not  in  London.  This  is  Paris,  and 
we  are  in  Paris  during  an  exceptional  period." 

It  was  as  if  the  Earl  had  said,  "  We  are  not  in  our  castle 
just  now.  In  our  condescension  we  have  come  down  to  see 
the  villagers  dancing  about  a  May -pole.  It  is  merely  the  folly 
of  an  hour  ;  "  and  he  smiled  as  he  sat  at  his  breakfast-table, 
with  conscious  superiority. 

"  A  definite  point,  my  dear  ;  you  will  not  go  beyond 
that,"  he  added,  adjusting  his  napkin. 

"  I  think,"  his  son  said,  maliciously,  "  that  you  would  have 
opened  your  eyes  a  little  if  you  had  seen  Blanche  on  horse 
back  yesterday  ;  she  rode  as  if  for  a  wager." 

"I  rode  with  him  because  he  rides  better  and  faster  than 
my  escort  generally  dares  to  do,"  Lady  Blanche  replied  with 
spirit. 

"  With  him  ?  May  I  ask  who  he  is  ? "  The  Earl  de 
manded  it  with  dignity. 

"  With  Mr.  Henry  Harris,"  his  daughter  replied  prompt 
ly,  with  unusual  distinctness  and  perfect  equipoise.  "  But  I 
consented  to  go  only  when  I  learned  that  Alfred  had  agreed 
to  accompany  Miss  Mary  Harris.  Who  cares?  It  was  a 
beautiful  day.  We  had  good  horses.  I  never  enjoyed  my 
self  more.  We  were  speaking  of  Mr.  Harris's  family.  When 
ever  I  am  with  them  I  feel,"  she  continued,  with  heightened 
color,  "  as  if  I  had  got  out  of  doors.  It  is  like  being  out 
with  the  hounds.  I  can  not  endure  to  be  eternally  in  the 
drawing-room  !  I  greatly  prefer  my  freedom." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  such  force,  such  fire,  in  fact, 
that  both  the  Earl  and  his  son  looked  at  her  with  sudden 
surprise  ;  she  had  at  the  moment  a  peculiarity  of  beauty 
they  had  not  observed  before. 


62  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  May  I  beg,  Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere,  to  learn  the  spe 
cies  of  game  in  this  instance  ?"  her  brother  asked,  in  ironical 
accents.  "  Deer,  is  it ;  or  is  it  but  a  fox  ?  I  am  interested, 
since  I  know  so  well  that  you  will  be  in  at  the  death.  And," 
Lord  Conyngham  added,  "  when  you  are  the  Diana,  the  game 
dies  hard,  terribly  hard,  you  know  that  ;  we  all  do  ! " 

There  was  evidently  an  allusion  to  something  in  the  past 
which  Lady  Blanche,  at  least,  well  understood  ;  but  her  eyes 
were  full  and  clear,  although  her  cheek  paled  as  she  replied 
to  her  brother,  her  gaze  unflinchingly  upon  him,  a  little  sad 
ness  in  it  too. 

"You  know,  Alfred,  it  was  not  my  fault." 

"  What  are  you  speaking  of  ?  "  the  old  Earl  demanded 
the  moment  after.  In  such  lofty  and  serene  heights  did  he 
habitually  dwell,  that  the  conversation  even  of  his  own  chil 
dren  sounded  as  if  below  him.  "  It  was  of  hunting,  was  it 
not  ?  "  he  added. 

"Yes,  sir  ;  and  I  was  telling  Blanche  to  be  careful  next 
time,"  Lord  Conyngham  said,  with  a  cruel  fun  in  his  eyes. 

"  Very  proper,  Alfred.  It  is  wrong,  if  it  can  be  avoided, 
to  ride  down  a  dog  or  even  a  farmer's  wheat.  I  am  afraid 
we  have  trampled  down  many  a  turnip-field  in  our  time." 
The  Earl  was  stately  even  in  his  regrets.  The  field  was 
highly  favored  to  be  so  trodden. 

"Poor  Harris,"  the  brother  whispered  to  his  sister,  for  it 
is  not  only  to  their  fags  that  Eton  boys  and  Oxford  men  are 
brutal.  "  Poor  Harris  !  I  would  beg  of  you  to  have  pity 
upon  him  ;  but  then,  you  know,  it  is  merely  a  question  of  a 
turnip  ! " 

It  is  worse  than  a  matter  of  fags  and  fagging.  That  may 
have  diminished  of  late,  like  bull-baiting,  cock-fighting,  and 
the  ferocities  of  the  prize-ring,  but  the  English  love  for  hard 
blows  is  in  the  bone  and  blood.  To  this  hour  old  Rome  sur 
vives  in  Britain.  It  was  when  the  combat  in  the  arena  was 
crudest  that  to  plebeian  and  patrician  it  was  sweetest. 
Strong  natures  can  give  and  take  severe  blows,  often  with 
only  less  enjoyment  of  the  taking  than  of  the  giving.  In  all 


ISHBA  DHASS  GUNGA.  63 

England  there  was  not  a  more  polished  as  well  as  aristo 
cratic  household  than  that  of  Earl  Dorrington,  yet  even  the 
play  therein  was  that  not  of  kittens,  but  of  young  lions.  No 
nobleman  more  of  a  gentleman,  no  lady  more  of  a  lady  than 
Lord  Conyngham  and  his  sister,  and  never  brother  and  sister 
loved  each  other  more — they  were  lion-like  in  that  also — but 
they  did  not  spare  each  other. 

"  His  heart  is  less  to  me  than  a  turnip,"  this  Boadicea, 
this  genuine  Englishwoman,  now  replied  to  her  brother  ; 
"but  you,"  she  said,  "you,  my  poor  brother,  you — "  And 
she  laughed  as  he  colored  almost  painfully  under  her  clear, 
steady  eyes. 

"  My  dear  children,"  the  Earl  remarked,  from  his  serene 
summits,  "  what  are  you  speaking  of  ?  "  And,  rising  from  the 
table  and  standing  at  the  window,  he  looked  down  upon  the 
crowded  and  busy  streets  of  Paris.  No,  it  was  not  as  if 
the  lord  of  the  castle  had  descended  to  the  villagers  ;  it  was 
rather  as  if  a  benevolent  naturalist  were  gazing  upon  the 
ways  of  the  ants  at  his  feet. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ISHKA    DHASS     GUNGA. 

HASSAN  PASHA,  the  Oriental  of  whom  mention  has  been 
already  made,  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  parlors  of  George 
Harris.  Neither  the  father  nor  his  son  Henry  were,  how 
ever,  the  chief  attraction.  For  these  he  had  the  admiration 
which  even  the  most  languid  and  luxurious  nature  has  for 
men  of  energy,  but  he  had  no  desire  to  be  such  a  man  him 
self.  In  his  secret  soul  the  most  intelligent  and  vigorous  of 
the  infidels  alive  was  to  this  Mohammedan  but  as  a  strong 
and  spirited  Arabian  horse,  to  be  used  when  need  be,  and 
which  he  would  manage  if  he  could  with  an  iron  bit,  since 


64  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

there  was  such  a  thing  as  being  dashed  by  one's  horse  to  the 
ground.  Both  speed  and  spirit  were  enjoyed  by  Hassan 
Pasha,  provided  he  could  be  master,  and  not  called  upon  to 
exert  himself  particularly,  but  he  had  no  more  wish  to  be 
himself  a  Frank  than  he  had  to  be  a  horse. 

The  attractions  lay  in  Mrs.  Harris  and  in  her  daughter. 
As  a  rule,  women  were  no  more  to  him  than  the  playthings 
of  an  indolent  hour,  as  sweet  and  as  devoid  of  intellect  as 
flowers  ;  they  were  merely  a  higher  and  more  delightful 
kind  of  roses,  in  fact.  But  Mrs.  Harris  reminded  him  of 
certain  sultanas  whom  he  had  known,  women  of  ability  who 
had  ruled  Turkey  from  behind  the  throne.  As  to  Mary 
Harris,  he  had  a  species  of  curiosity  which  is  characteristic 
of  the  Oriental.  He  had  never  known  a  slave,  Circassian  or 
Georgian,  who  was  more  lovely.  She  seemed  to  be  as  soft, 
as  modest,  as  gentle,  as  obedient,  as  if  she  had  never  left 
her  mother's  side  for  an  instant,  and  yet,  "  Her  father  deals 
in  iron,"  he  thought,  "  but  in  her  the  iron  has  been  refined 
into  steel.  When  I  hinted  the  other  day  that  women  were 
made  for  the  service  of  men,  there  was  the  glint  of  a  Da 
mascus  blade  in  her  eyes.  '  Do  you  really  think  so  ? '  she 
asked,  but  tone  and  glance  reminded  me  of  the  way  in 
which  Saladin  could  cut  in  twain  by  a  turn  of  his  keen 
scimitar  a  veil  of  gauze  which  hung  over  him  afloat  in  the 
air.  How  divinely  she  plays,  too,  and  what  a  power  of  soul 
she  can  pour  into  her  songs  !  Ah  me  !  if — " 

But  what  Hassan  Pasha  would  have  been  capable  of,  had 
he  possessed  the  power  of  which  he  every  day  regarded 
himself  as  unjustly  deprived,  who  can  say  !  Certainly  no 
gentleman  could  have  conducted  himself  with  greater  pro 
priety  when  visiting  in  their  hotel. 

He  was  conversing  with  Mary  Harris  there  one  evening 
when  the  name  of  Lady  Blanche  was  mentioned.  His  face 
slowly  darkened  as  he  said  :  "  She  is  an  Englishwoman  of 
the  purest  type,  very  noble,  very  beautiful.  But  do  you  re 
member,  Miss  Harris,  hearing  of  Cadi j  ah,  the  first  wife  of 
our  prophet  ?  "  he  suddenly  added. 


ISHRA  DHASS  OUNGA.  65 

"Yes,  and  of  his  younger  wife,  Ayesha,"  the  lady  re 
plied. 

"  "Well,  they  were  the  wives  of  the  Prophet  of  God,"  the 
Oriental  said,  gravely,  "  and  yet  even  then  they  were  not 
proud,  were  merely  simple  women.  Picture  to  yourself 
Sarah,  the  wife  of  Ibrahim — Abraham,  you  call  him — was  she 
a  haughty  dame  ?  Your  Bible  does  not  say  so.  It  tells  of 
her  kneading  three  measures  of  meal  ;  think  of  Lady  Blanche 
doing  that !  And  then  there  was  Rebekah  at  the  well ;  when 
Eleazar  came  with  his  camels,  he  made  it  the  only  test  of 
the  one  who  was  to  be  the  bride  of  Isaac,  not  that  she  should 
be  even  beautiful,  but  that  she  should  offer  to  water  his 
thirsty  camels.  And  if  you  draw  a  picture  of  Rachel,  she 
must  have  a  jar  upon  her  head.  Of  the  wife  of  Moses  it 
was  the  same,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  May  I  be  allowed  ?  "  The  question  was  asked  by  a 
gentleman  who  had  drawn  near  as  they  conversed,  for  the 
rooms  were  filled  with  visitors  coming  and  going. 

Hassan  Pasha  bowed  somewhat  coldly,  but  Mary  Harris 
said,  with  her  brightest  smile,  "  With  pleasure,  Mr. — Sig- 
nior — " 

"  My  full  name  is  Ishra  Dhass  Gunga,"  the  gentleman 
corrected  her,  with  a  happy  face. 

"I  know  that  well  enough,"  the  lady  hastened  to  say, 
"  only  I  do  not  know  always  what  is  the  variation  which  I 
should  use  of  Mr.  We  are  here  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 
Sometimes  I  must  say  Herr,  sometimes  Monsieur,  now  it  is 
Signior,  then  it  is  Don,  or  my  lord,  or  your  excellency.  If 
it  is  an  American,  I  am  always  safe  in  calling  him  Mr." 

"  Pardon  me,  do  you  think  so  ? "  the  new-comer  de 
manded.  "  I  never  feel  that  I  am  as  polite  as  I  should  be 
with  an  American  unless  I  call  him  Captain,  Major,  Colonel. 
One  must  discriminate,  though,  and  I  try  to  estimate  the 
man,  and  according  as  I  like  him  I  brevet  him  with  anything 
military  up  to  General,  and  there,  alas  !  I  am  compelled  to 
stop.  Please  call  me  plain  Ishra  Dhass." 

There  was  something  irresistibly  pleasing,  to  the  lady  at 


66  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

least,  in  the  speaker.  He  was  a  Hindoo  who  spoke  English 
perfectly,  because  he  had  been  educated  for  the  service  in  a 
government  college  in  Calcutta.  Hassan  Pasha,  who  had 
drawn  himself  up  into  his  stateliest  height,  was  a  taller  man, 
but  the  Hindoo  was  admirably  formed,  his  dark  face  glowing 
like  that  of  a  frolicsome  boy.  His  features  were  delicate, 
his  eyes  of  a  lively  black,  his  hands  small  and  in  continual 
motion,  but  it  was  his  genuine  good-nature  which  struck  you 
most.  His  teeth  were  not  much  larger  than  grains  of  rice, 
and  whiter,  in  contrast  with  the  dark  bronze  of  his  complex 
ion,  and  he  seemed  to  be  always  laughing.  Not  that  he  was 
at  all  silly,  nor  that  his  manners  were  part  of  his  toilet. 
That  he  was  entirely  natural  was  too  evident  to  be  denied. 
He  was  dressed  simply,  in  the  Hindoo  style,  a  white  turban 
upon  his  head,  and  seemed  to  be  entirely  at  home.  From 
the  opening  of  the  Exposition  he  had  been  in  Paris,  and 
seemed  to  know  and  to  be  greatly  liked  by  everybody. 
Wherever  there  was  a  group  of  ladies  or  gentlemen  in  corri 
dor  or  parlor  of  the  great  hotels,  you  were  tolerably  sure, 
especially  when  you  heard  them  laugh,  to  find  Ishra  Dhass 
as  the  center  about  which  they  were  drawn.  His  humor 
was  inexhaustible.  It  seemed  to  be  part  of  his  perfect 
health.  Withal  he  was  a  gentleman.  The  modulated  tones, 
the  deferential  manner,  the  entire  independence  of  the  man, 
made  that  very  evident. 

"  Oh !  I  am  a  Brahmin,"  he  would  say,  when  flattered 
upon  his  knowledge  of  the  world.  "You  know  that  we  are 
gods  in  our  own  land.  Very  poor  gods  we  are,"  he  would 
add,  with  his  merry  eyes,  "  almost  as  poor  as  the  Vishnus 
and  Sivas  my  people  pray  to.  They  and  we,  all  of  us,  are 
nothing  but  clay  at  last." 

Being  of  as  high  caste  as  the  highest,  he  was  as  free 
with  even  Earl  Dorrington  as  George  Harris  could  have  been 
— much  more  so,  for  the  American  had  a  certain  ruggedness 
of  his  own,  while  the  Hindoo  was  supple,  smiling,  full  of  his 
genuine  good-humor  with  whomsoever  he  was  thrown. 

"  Will  you  pardon  my  intrusion  ?  "  he  now  said,  with  all 


ISHRA  DHASS  GUNGA.  67 

politeness  ;  "  but  I  could  not  help  hearing  what  his  High 
ness,"  and  he  bowed  to  Hassan  Pasha,  "  was  so  eloquently 
observing  in  regard  to  your  sex,"  and  he  bowed  with  un 
affected  deference  to  the  lady.  "  You  are  right,  sir.  It  is 
impossible  to  think  of  Ruth  as  holding  herself  haughtily  the 
day  she  went  home  to  her  mother-in-law,  Naomi,  with  her 
gleanings  gathered  into  her  veil.  With  six  measures  of 
barley  upon  her  shoulders,  how,"  he  demanded,  with  his 
frank  smile,  "  could  she  hold  her  head  erect  with  pride  ? 
Ah,  but  she  was  erect ;  she  was  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  be 
cause,"  he  added,  "  from  her  childhood,  she  had  been  taught 
to  bear  burdens  balanced  upon  her  beautiful  head.  One  day 
I  was  at  the  house  of  a  nobleman  in  England,  his  guest,  I 
am  happy  to  say.  He  had  a  lovely  daughter,  about  fourteen 
years  old.  I  happened  to  be  in  her  father's  library  when  she 
came  in  for  an  atlas,  and  she  had  a  trayful  of  sand  on  her 
head.  You  observe,  she  was  too  frail  ;  had  a  tendency  to 
stoop,  and  her  governess  made  her  do  it  to  give  her  a  stronger 
chest  and  a  more  graceful  carriage.  When  she  saw  me  she 
started,  upset  the  sand,  and  down  it  came  over  her  shoulders 
in  an  avalanche.  She  began  to  cry,  but  I  told  her  it  was 
what  I  used  to  see  my  dear  mother  do  every  day  at  home, 
only  it  was  water  she  bore,  not  sand,  and  we  had  a  good 
laugh  over  it.  We  became  excellent  good  friends  after  that, 
I  assure  you.  But,  as  I  said,  forgive  me  ;  I  interrupt  you." 
"  Not  at  all,"  Hassan  Pasha  said,  in  his  politest  manner. 
For  the  best  of  all  reasons — at  least,  for  the  strongest  rea 
sons  of  which  a  Mohammedan  is  capable — he  had  the  sin- 
cerest  hatred  for  the  Hindoo.  Deeply  as  he  despised  and 
hated,  even  abhorred,  the  Russian,  English,  French,  of  Ishra 
Dhass  he  had  an  opinion  stronger  still.  But  he  was  out 
wardly  polite  to  French,  English,  even  to  Russians,  and  he 
was  so  now.  With  as  little  compunction  as  though  he  had 
been  a  sheep  instead,  he  could  have  killed  this  pleasant, 
smiling  Brahmin,  or,  rather,  could  have  had  him  killed  by  a 
slave,  with  an  indolent  wave  of  his  hand  ;  but  this  was  not 
Asia  ;  he  was  in  Paris. 


68  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  I  merely  desired  to  add,"  Ishra  Dhass  continued,  "  that 
I  have  the  honor  heartily  to .  agree  with  your  Highness  in 
one  thing." 

Hassan  Pasha  allowed  himself  almost  to  manifest  his 
surprise  as  he  looked  at  the  speaker.  Ishra  Dhass,  however, 
was  perfectly  aware  of  the  sentiments  of  the  Turk  toward 
himself,  and,  instead  of  addressing  himself  to  him  further, 
was  saying  to  the  young  lady  :  "  It  is  a  matter  in  which  I 
fear  I  do  not  have  your  sympathy,  Miss  Harris.  Not,  at 
least,  as  yet.  Europeans,  Americans,  you  are — you  are  so 
sure  you  are  right,  right  in  everything  !  We  Orientals," 
comprehending  the  Pasha  with  a  wave  of  his  supple  hand, 
"  are,  you  think,  left  hopelessly  behind !  Wait ;  please 
wait  a  few  years.  In  some  very  important  matters,  matters 
you  do  not  dream  of,  the  sun  is  to  rise  upon  you,  as  it  al 
ways  has  done,  and  in  everything  of  highest  importance — is 
to  rise  upon  you  from  the  East.  Never,  since  the  world  be 
gan,  has  it  risen  in  the  West ;  never  !  In  the  East  it  is  to 
rise  again,  and  ah,  what  a  glorious  day  it  will  bring  ! " 

It  was  said  with  such  unfeigned  enthusiasm,  such  certain 
assurance,  as  of  an  inspired  prophet,  who  was  also  a  joyous 
child,  that  both  the  Turk  and  the  American  lady  looked  at 
the  Hindoo  with  astonishment.  He  seemed,  for  the  moment, 
to  be  almost  transfigured  as  with  the  certainty  of  what  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  his  companions  asked,  rather 
with  their  eyes  than  their  lips. 

"Asia  has  been  mistaken,  mistaken  for  centuries,  sadly 
mistaken.  But  Europe  and  America  have  been  mistaken 
too,"  he  added,  with  a  certain  glad  confidence,  "  frightfully 
mistaken.  I  will  explain  some  other  time ;  not  now.  It 
was  your  speaking  of  Eastern  women  which  caused  me  to 
intrude.  Your  Highness  is  right.  It  is  Sarah,  Rachel,  Ruth, 
who  are  the  nearest  to  Eve.  They  are  the  models.  There 
is  another  woman — the  noblest,  because  the  simplest  and 
most  purely  woman  of  all.  But,"  and  he  looked  the  Pasha 
steadily  in  the  eyes,  "  I  will  tell  you  her  name  another  time  ; 
not  now.  See  ;  the  company  are  taking  their  leave." 


WOMAN  AS  A  SLAVE.  69 

"  What  woman  were  you  speaking  of  ?  "  Mary  Harris 
asked  of  him,  soon  after,  in  the  doorway,  as  he  left.  "I  am 
curious  to  know." 

"My  friend  the  Pasha  dislikes  the  topic,"  the  smiling 
Hindoo  replied,  "  but  you  know  already  whom  I  mean.  You 
yourself  are  named  after  her,  and  she  lived  in  Syria  eighteen 
centuries  ago." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

WOMAN    AS    A    SLAVE. 

THE  day  following  the  conversation  just  recorded,  Henry 
Harris  was  speaking  of  Hassan  Pasha  among  a  party  of 
gentlemen,  of  whom  Lord  Conyngham  was  one.  The  Turk 
had  made  a  peculiar  impression  upon  almost  every  person 
present. 

"  It  so  chanced,"  the  young  nobleman  remarked,  "  that 
I  was  once  thrown  with  him  a  good  deal.  My  father,  my 
sister,  and  myself  had  been  some  years  ago  spending  the 
winter  in  Rome.  In  the  spring  of  the  following  year  we 
unexpectedly  joined  a  party  of  friends  who  embarked  at 
Naples  on  an  Eastern  tour.  The  boat  touched  only  at  Mes 
sina,  and  thence  steered  directly  for  Constantinople.  After 
leaving  that  port  we  were  hurried,  in  quick  succession, 
through  scenes  of  wonderful  interest  and  beauty.  As  in  the 
case  of  all  travelers  in  the  East,  our  thoughts  were  more  oc 
cupied  with  its  past  history  than  its  present  condition.  The 
halo  of  the  classic  ages  still  envelops  this  region  with  a  fas 
cinating  spell.  The  names  of  its  heroes,  statesmen,  and 
philosophers  are  associated  with  its  plains,  seas,  and  his 
toric  sites,  while  Olympus,  Parnassus,  and  Ida  recall  the 
mythologic  fables  to  which  the  imagination  of  the  ancient 
poets  gave  birth,  and  which,  to  this  day,  are  themes  of  in 
spiration  to  poets  and  painters.  The  imperishable  character 
of  Greek  civilization  and  letters  is  one  of  the  most  striking 


70  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

facts  in  human  history.  There  is  not  a  classic  student  who 
does  not  long  to  visit  the  scenes  where  lived  and  acted  the 
great  men  of  the  Homeric,  Periclean,  and  Alexandrian  eras, 
and  to  muse  over  the  remains  of  fallen  splendor,  and,  on  the 
spot,  to  study  the  causes  of  the  decline  of  states  and  the 
ruin  of  empires.  The  most  learned  of  our  party,  who  at 
the  same  time  was  one  of  the  most  pleasing  of  narrators, 
supplied  the  place  of  a  guide-book,  for  he  knew  all  the 
famed  localities  as  if  he  had  been  born  among  them.  We 
sat  around  him  spellbound  as  he  pointed  out  Cythera,  the 
birthplace  of  Venus  ;  as  we  glided  by  Lesbos,  he  spoke  of 
Sappho  and  her  woes  ;  and  when  the  tumulus  of  Patroclus 
loomed  in  sight  on  the  Asiatic  shore,  he  recapitulated  the 
legendary  story  of  Troy.  But  the  crowning  glory  of  this 
realm  of  poetry  and  romance  was  the  sight  of  Constan 
tinople  as  it  emerged  from  the  morning  mist,  with  its  forest 
of  gilded  domes  and  minarets  flashing  in  the  beams  of  the 
rising  sun,  Europe  and  Asia  divided  only  by  the  narrow 
channel  of  the  Bosphorus,  the  Sea  of  Marmora  spread  out 
before  it  like  a  mirror  to  reflect  its  beauty,  the  refulgent 
atmosphere  bringing  out  in  clear  outline  the  snow-clad  sum 
mit  of  the  Bithynian  Olympus,  and  the  picturesque  land  and 
water  scenery  that  spread  around  on  every  side. 

"  The  day  after  our  arrival  my  father  sent  his  card  to 
our  Turkish  friend  Hassan  Pasha,  whom  we  had  met  in  Lon 
don,  at  his  yali  or  villa  on  the  Bosphorus,  to  know  when  we 
could  call  on  him. 

"'To-morrow,'  he  replied,  'if  you  will  bring  your  son 
and  daughter  with  you.' 

"  We  were  not  a  little  surprised  at  this  general  invitation, 
and  my  father  intimated  to  the  servant  that  there  must  be 
some  mistake. 

"  '  Not  at  all ;  the  Pasha  is  quite  European  in  his  ways, 
and  the  khanem,  his  wife,  follows  his  example  as  far  as  he 
will  allow  her  to  do  so.' 

"  We  had  finished  a  late  breakfast  when  the  carriage  of  the 
Pasha  was  announced  to  be  in  waiting  to  conduct  us  to  To- 


WOMAN  AS  A  SLAVE.  71 

phane.  There  a  besch  chifte,  or  five-pair-oar  caique,  in  a 
short  time  carried  us  to  the  villa.  It  was  an  elegant  build 
ing  of  Oriental  architecture  immediately  on  the  edge  of  the 
Bosphorus,  with  large  gardens  on  either  side  glowing  with 
flowers  of  every  hue.  We  landed  on  the  garden  side,  and 
had  hardly  set  foot  on  shore  before  the  Pasha  advanced  to 
meet  us.  Our  reception  was  more  cordial  than  I  thought  he 
was  capable  of.  He  seemed  to  make  an  effort  to  throw  off 
his  usual  reserve  of  manner  in  order  to  put  us  at  ease  and 
please  us. 

" '  Permit  me,'  he  said,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  '  to  divide 
you,  and  to  introduce  Lady  Blanche  to  the  khanem  in  the 
harem.  After  they  have  chatted  together  they  will  join  us 
in  the  selamliJc.'' 

"  A  eunuch,  as  black  as  Erebus  and  as  ugly  as  such  crea 
tures  always  are,  bowing  obsequiously  to  the  ground,  led 
the  way  to  the  harem  in  the  second  story,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  house.  My  sister  was  conducted  to  a  spacious  saloon, 
spread  with  Persian  carpets,  in  the  center  of  which  a  foun 
tain  bubbled  over  a  tier  of  marble  basins  into  a  reservoir  in 
which  goldfish  were  playing.  When  she  was  seated  on  the 
divan,  which  overlooked  the  Bosphorus,  with  all  its  ani 
mated  sight  of  sailing  and  steam  craft  passing  by,  and 
caiques  darting  across  the  channel  between  the  two  conti 
nents,  she  was  served  with  pipes  and  coffee,  sherbet  and 
sweetmeats. 

"  '  I  am  glad  to  see  you  in  Turkey,'  said  the  Pasha,  mean 
while,  to  my  father  and  myself.  '  It  is  not  the  country  it 
once  was,  nor  are  Constantinople  and  its  environs  such  as  they 
were  in  the  time  of  Solyman  the  Magnificent  and  some  of 
his  successors.  Man,  however,  can  not  mar  the  beauty  of 
nature.  Probably  it  flourishes  more  when  most  neglected 
by  him.  There,  on  the  opposite  European  shore,  you  see  the 
fortress  which  Mohammed  II  built  on  the  eve  of  the  con 
quest  of  Constantinople,  and  whence  he  set  forth  to  besiege 
and  take  that  city  from  the  Greeks,  who  had  held  it  for  fif 
teen  hundred  years.  It  is  a  monument  of  our  former  power 
4 


72  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

and  superiority  ;  but,  like  the  empire  to  which  it  gave  birth, 
it  is  falling  to  decay.' 

"  For  some  time  we  talked  of  themes  of  mutual  interest, 
when  the  Pasha  whispered  a  few  words  to  a  servant.  The 
officers  and  servants  in  the  vestibule  retired  into  the  interior 
of  the  yali.  Their  disappearance  was  followed  by  the  en 
trance  of  the  wife  of  the  Pasha  with  my  sister.  She  wore  a 
transparent  yashmak,  which  she  lifted  from  her  expressive 
features  as  she  took  a  seat  beside  her  husband.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  and  rich 
est  princes  of  the  empire.  Her  father  had  enjoyed  all  the 
pleasures  and  aspirations  of  private  and  public  life.  There 
was  no  luxury  he  could  not  indulge  in  and  no  ambition  that 
he  did  not  gratify  except  that  of  supreme  rule,  and  in  the 
general  break-up  and  uncertainty  of  Oriental  affairs  he  even 
cherished  the  idea  of  one  day  becoming  the  successor  of  the 
sultans  of  the  house  of  Othman.  He  died,  however,  before 
he  might  have  played  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  fifth  act  of 
the  Oriental  drama.  He  loved  his  eldest  daughter  as  the 
apple  of  his  eye,  and  gave  her  entirely  into  the  charge  of  an 
English  governess,  who  educated  her  to  a  familiar  knowledge 
of  English,  French,  and  the  elements  of  modern  learning, 
and  gave  her  such  an  insight  into  modern  life  that  she  lost 
all  sympathy  with  Oriental  manners  and  customs.  She  was 
denationalized  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  To  my  sister  she 
had  previously  said  : 

"  '  I  have  been  trained  as  a  European,  and  I  am  to  live  as 
an  Oriental.  I  know  my  future.  I  am  married  to  one  whom 
I  never  saw  before  marriage,  who  shuts  me  up  in  his  harem 
to  consort  with  other  wives  of  as  low  instincts  as  himself — 
dull,  vapid  creatures,  with  minds  as  blank  as  a  sheet  of  white 
paper.  It  is  a  pity  that  I  was  not  permitted  to  remain  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  a  better  state.  To  my  surprise,  I  am 
taken  to  the  balls  of  the  foreign  embassies.  I  look  on,  how 
ever,  from  a  gallery.  I  do  not  participate.  My  position  is 
altogether  false.  I  am  neither  Christian  nor  Mohammedan. 
Pity  that  I  ever  knew  a  foreign  tongue  or  met  a  foreigner.' 


WOMAN  AS  A  SLAVE.  73 

"  It  was  at  this  moment  that  a  female  servant  informed 
the  khanem  that  her  company  was  desired  in  the  selamlik. 

"  '  Let  us  go,'  she  had  said,  '  and  for  a  while,  at  least,  act 
and  speak  like  free  creatures,  and  not  like  slaves.  How  I 
envy  the  condition  of  Christian  women  ! ' 

"  With  this,  throwing  a  Cashmere  shawl  over  her  shoul 
ders,  preceded  by  her  confidential  slave,  she  had  entered  the 
saloon  of  the  selamlik.  Casting  off  her  Oriental  manners, 
she  conversed  with  the  Earl  and  myself  on  a  great  variety  of 
subjects.  She  had  read  of  the  homage  paid  to  women  in 
Europe  and  America. 

"  '  It  may  not  be  a  proof,'  she  said,  '  of  your  superior 
civilization,  but  it  certainly  is  of  your  superior  humanity. 
Where  man  recognizes  woman  as  his  helpmate  and  not  as 
his  slave,  he  doubles  his  happiness  and  he  gives  his  children 
new  reasons  for  respecting  their  mother.  God  never  designed 
woman  to  be  a  degraded  creature.  I  receive  and  reciprocate 
the  visits  of  Christian  ladies,  but  I  feel  all  the  time  that  I  am 
violating  the  customs  of  my  own  people,  and  that  I  am  only 
rendering  myself  unhappy.' 

"  We  tried  to  parry  this  sad  train  of  thought  with  com 
plimentary  remarks,  but  we  saw  that  a  barbed  arrow  had 
entered  her  soul  and  could  not  be  extracted.  The  finale  to 
this  story  of  domestic  contrariety  is  that  the  Pasha,  not  long 
after  our  visit,  went  to  Europe,  and  his  wife  was  remanded 
into  a  state  of  Oriental  seclusion,  where  she  lived  without 
any  intercourse  with  the  gay  Frank  world,  with  which  she 
once  had  a  partial  acquaintance,  and  for  which  she  had  such 
strong  sympathies.  During  our  stay  in  Constantinople  the 
Pasha  was  untiring  in  his  hospitality  ;  but  with  him,  as  with 
all  other  Orientals,  we  could  perceive  an  invisible  barrier  of 
separation  that,  while  they  manifest  a  decent  respect,  ex 
ternally,  for  each  other,  will  for  ever  keep  Mussulmans  and 
Christians  apart." 

"  Have  you  ever  asked  after  her  ? "  Henry  Harris  in 
quired  as  the  other  resumed  his  cigar. 

"  Yes,"  Lord  Conyngham  replied  ;  "  and  that  is  why  I 


74:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

have  said  as  much  as  I  have  about  our  visit.  I  knew  at  the 
time  that  it  was  contrary  to  Oriental  etiquette  to  do  so,  but 
he  had  himself  gone  so  far  that  I  thought  I  could  venture. 
And  very  sorry  I  was  that  I  did  so.  He  evaded  the  ques 
tion,  but  Lady  Blanche  learned  in  some  way  that  the  poor 
thing  was  said  to  have  disappeared,  eloped,  committed  sui 
cide — it  was  not  known  which." 

The  young  nobleman  had  spoken  so  much  more  than  his 
wont  that  the  company  were  not  surprised  when  he  added  : 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  notice  him,  gentlemen.  To  me  it 
is  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  the  *  Arabian  Nights'  Enter 
tainments.'  Unless  I  mistake,  Hassan  Pasha  will  give  the 
world  some  startling  sensation  yet." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IRRESISTIBLE   ATTRACTION. 

IT  is  not  in  chemical  compounds  alone  we  find  that  strong 
drawing  of  things  toward  each  other  which  we  call  elective 
affinity.  If  certain  gases  are  attracted  into  one  to  form 
water  ;  if  certain  other  gases  cling  together  to  compose  air  ; 
so  it  is  the  instinctive  union  of  certain  people  which  is  the 
making  of  genuine  friendship.  It  was  thus  with  the  family 
of  Earl  Dorrington  and  that  of  George  Harris.  Not  that 
the  Earl  could  enter  either  closely  or  cordially  into  alliance 
with  any  one  outside  of  his  household.  He  could  combine 
with  the  Tories  to  make  a  party,  could  be  one  of  a  cabinet 
to  form  a  ministry,  but  with  these,  even  with  son  and  daugh 
ter,  he  still  was,  as  has  been  sung  of  Milton,  "  a  star,  and 
dwelt  apart."  In  the  case  of  Lady  Blanche  and  Lord  Con- 
yngham  it  was  different.  The  blue  blood  was  in  their 
veins,  it  is  true,  but  the  world  was  changing,  and  they  were 
changing  with  it — unconsciously  so. 

"  Lady  Blanche  is  the  queen  of  her  sex  ;  the  most  beau- 


IRRESISTIBLE  ATTRACTION.  75 

tiful,  by  far  the  most  desirable  woman  in  the  world,"  Henry 
Harris  said  to  himself  every  day,  yet  he  always  added,  "but 
I  will  take  good  care  that  she  shall  never  know  I  think  so." 

"Of  all  men  I  know,  he  is  one  of  the  few  who  de 
serves  to  be  in  the  Peerage,"  Lady  Blanche  felt,  rather  than 
allowed  herself  distinctly  to  think,  in  regard  to  him.  "  And 
if  he  was,  then — "  But  there  she  always  arrested  even  her 
most  secret  feeling,  not  before  the  blood,  proud  as  it  was,  had 
flushed  her  face.  For  it  was  a  little  singular  that  if  Lord 
Conyngham  had  addressed  his  sister  of  late  as  "  Lady  Clara 
Vere  de  Vere,"  Mary  Harris  had  taken  occasion,  by  way  of 
sisterly  precaution,  to  read  Tennyson's  poem  of  that  name  to 
her  brother  Henry,  from  beginning  to  end,  and  over  and  over 

again. 

"Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere — " 

The  lines  began  to  ring  in  the  ears  of  Henry  Harris  with 
absurd  persistency  ;  he  caught  himself  even  muttering  them 
aloud  when  by  himself  : 

"  'Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere, 

Of  me  you  shall  not  win  renown : 
You  thought  to  break  a  country  heart 

For  pastime,  ere  you  went  to  town ; 
At  me  you  smiled,  but  unbeguiled 

I  saw  the  snare,  and  I  retired : 
The  daughter  of  a  hundred  earls, 

You  are  not  one  to  be  desired.' " 

Only  the  young  man  would  always  add,  also  strictly  to 
himself  :  "  That  last  line  is  false.  This  Lady  Clara  is  one  to 
be  most  earnestly  desired.  Of  course  she  cares  nothing  for 
a  fellow  like  me,  but,  in  case  she  should  try  to  amuse  herself 
with  me,  I  will  show  her  that  all  the  iron  is  not  in  my  father's 
veins,  nor  the  pride  in  hers." 

The  truth  is,  the  young  American  had  been  very  care 
fully  trained.  In  an  incidental  conversation  with  Earl  Dor- 
rington,  George  Harris  had,  without  the  remotest  allusion 
to  Ms  own  case,  explained  the  matter  to  the  Earl,  who  had 


76  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

been  speaking  with  a  stately  scorn  of  the  parvenus,  the  newly 
made  rich  men  of  England  and  France. 

"  Your  view  is  in  some  sense  the  true  one,"  George  Har 
ris  had  gravely  replied.  "A  century  or  so  ago,  when  men 
began  to  grow  rich  in  New  York  and  elsewhere  in  America, 
they  were  so  taken  up  with  making  money,  it  was  so  unusual 
a  thing  to  have  a  hundred  thousand  or  so,  that  they  were 
intoxicated  thereby.  Being  addled  by  their  money,  men 
allowed,  even  encouraged,  their  wives  and  daughters  to  rush 
into  extravagance,  their  sons  to  dash  into  reckless  dissipa 
tion.  But  a  generation  or  two  of  ever-increasing  wealth  has 
begun  to  cure  all  that,  at  least  with  us.  Our  men  of  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars,  '  a  plum,'  as  it  used  to  be  called,  have 
given  place  to  our  millionaires.  These  have  grown  up  ac 
customed  to  vast  wealth.  As  one  result  the  very  rich  man 
now  educates  his  son  to  be  a  millionaire,  as  a  farmer  edu 
cates  his  boy  to  be  a  farmer,  or  as  a  machinist  trains  him  to 
be  a  machinist,  or  as,"  the  master  mechanic  added  with  a 
slight  inclination  of  his  head,  "  a  nobleman  brings  up  his  son 
and  heir  to  be  an  earl  or  a  duke.  As  America  grows  older 
it  grows  wiser,  steadier,  stronger,  I  trust." 

"  Assuredly  so,"  Earl  Dorrington  replied,  and  thought  no 
more  about  it ;  but  that  was  undoubtedly  the  way  in  which 
George  Harris  had,  with  the  hearty  cooperation  of  his  wife, 
brought  up  his  children.  Henry  Harris  had  long  known  that 
he  would  possess  considerably  over  a  million.  He  had  be 
come  accustomed  to  it  ;  the  fact  had  become  as  much  a  part 
of  the  order  of  nature  to  him  as  his  nobility  had  to  Lord 
Conyngham.  Although  of  an  ardent,  even  impulsive,  soul, 
the  young  American,  combining  in  himself  the  characters  of 
his  father  and  his  mother,  was  cool,  determined,  thoroughly 
sensible. 

"  I  could  die  for  her,"  he  was  coming  to  say  to  himself, 
as  he  saw  more  and  more  every  day  of  Lady  Blanche,  "but 
I  do  not  intend  that  she  shall  make  a  fool  of  me.  Al 
though,"  he  always  added  in  the  same  breath,  "  she  has,  of 
course,  no  such  intention.  I  do  not  suppose  she  gives  me 


IRRESISTIBLE  ATTRACTION.  77 

a  thought.  Among  her  swarm  of  admirers  I  am  hardly  re 
membered." 

Odd  as  it  may  seem  in  so  truthful  a  person,  he  thought, 
really,  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  was  pretty  confident  that 
Lady  Blanche  did  care  a  good  deal  for  him  ;  was  even  sure 
of  and  greatly  elated  thereby.  "  But  that  is  my  self-con 
ceit  !  "  he  always  added. 

Now  if  Henry  Harris  had  said  to  his  sister  when  she  had 
been  administering  her  preventive  poetry  to  him,  "My  dear 
Mary,  you  say  all  that  merely  to  hide  your  own  feeling  in 
regard  to  Lord  Conyngham,"  if  he  had  said  that,  it  would 
have  been  very  rude  ;  but  it  would  have  been  true,  perfectly 
true,  however  she  might  have  denied  it,  denied  it  indignant 
ly  and  with  glowing  cheeks. 

It  was  the  same  with  the  young  nobleman.  His  sister 
had  never  been  without  some  unfortunate  suitor.  Many  of 
them  had  been  unexceptionable,  all  of  them  had  been  very 
much  in  earnest,  two  or  three  had  been  desperate,  in  the  case 
of  at  least  one  there  had  been  a  tragedy.  And  yet  Lord 
Conyngham  had  rarely  troubled  himself  concerning  her  mat 
ters.  If  she  was  as  warm-hearted  as  she  was  beautiful,  Earl 
Dorrington  himself  was  not  quite  so  proud — if  such  a  super 
lative  may  be  allowed — as  was  she.  Why,  then,  should  her 
brother  indulge  in  such  frequent  warnings  in  regard  to  this 
young  American  millionaire  ?  He  had  always  been  arrogant, 
always  bitterly  hostile,  to  Americans.  At  times  he  would 
flash  out  in  contemptuous  allusions  to  their  exhibits  at  the 
Exposition,  to  this  individual  and  that,  man  or  woman,  who 
were  marked  in  their  Americanisms.  But  why  not  let  his 
sister  alone  in  regard  to  Henry  Harris  ? 

"  It  is  because  you  never  cease  to  think  of  them  yourself, 
of  one  of  them  at  least,"  she  said  to  him  suddenly  one  day. 
"  I  am  told,"  she  added,  "  although  it  is  a  low  thing  to  say, 
that  it  is  the  thief  who  is  loudest  in  his  cry  of  '  Stop  thief  ! ' 
Take  care  of  yourself,  my  poor  Alfred,  and  I  will  care  for 
myself." 

"  Why  do  I  hear  so  much  said  concerning  the  Ameri- 


73  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

cans?"  Earl  Dorrington  asked  on  this  occasion  from  the 
head  of  the  table,  for  they  were  at  dinner.  "  For  my  part, 
of  Americans  I  am  grown  weary.  When  I  was  younger  it 
was  not  so.  Sydney  Smith  very  well  observed  then,  '  Who 
ever  reads  an  American  book  ?  '  Now  I  am  disgusted  with 
the  unceasing  allusions  to  American  newspaper  enterprise, 
American  literature,  American  machinery.  When  I  was  at 
Harrow  and  since,  '  the  roast  beef  of  old  England '  was  next 
to  King  and  Constitution  ;  now  it  is  of  American  beef  I  con 
tinually  hear.  At  least  at  our  own  board  let  us  escape  al 
lusions  so  frequent  to  the  people  in  question.  I  weary  of  it." 

"  I  fear  you  will  become  exceedingly  fatigued  then,  sir," 
Lord  Conyngham  said.  "It  appears  to  me  that  we  are  com 
ing  to  hear  of  nothing  but  American  locomotives,  American 
flour,  honey,  eggs,  mutton,  apples.  The  republic  of  France 
is  merely  a  French  translation  of  the  one  over  the  Atlantic. 
What  with  their  revolvers,  phonographs,  telegraphs,  yachts, 
school  systems,  monitors,  spiritualisms,  and  a  thousand  things 
beside — " 

But  at  this  moment  the  Earl  touched  a  bell  near  his 
plate,  and  the  portly  butler  made  his  appearance.  He  was 
a  larger  man  than  his  master,  purple  of  face  from  much 
port,  white-headed,  double-chinned,  as  grave  of  aspect  as  an 
ambassador. 

"  Excuse  me,  Alfred,"  said  the  Earl,  "  but  I  must  speak 
of  it  while  the  subject  is  up.  Wilkins  !  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  butler. 

."  Allow  nothing  American  to  come  upon  my  table.  Nei 
ther  here  nor  when  we  return  to  England.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  If  your  lordship  will  allow  me — " 

"  I  will  not  allow  vou.  Nothing  American  !  That  will 
do." 

"  I  wish  to  add,"  the  Earl  continued,  as  the  butler  with 
drew,  for  dessert  was  on  the  table,  at  which  no  servant  was 
present  unless  company  was  being  entertained,  "that  the 
American  republic,  like  the  French,  is  but  the  accident  of 
an  hour.  It  narrowly  escaped  destruction  during  their  civil 


THE  MARBLE  LIE.  79 

war.  The  horrible  corruption  of  General  Tweed  and  his 
kind  will  speedily  cause  it  to  collapse.  There  are  respect 
able  persons  among  them.  Mr.  George  Harris  seems  to  be 
of  the  kind,  but — I  am  weary  of  America.  We  will  dismiss 
the  subject.  You  were  speaking  a  little  while  ago,  Alfred, 
of  Mr.  Gladstone—" 

And  yet,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  the  friendship  between 
the  two  families  appeared  to  increase  every  week.  As  if  by 
a  controlling  destiny,  the  young  people  especially  were  thrown 
together,  now  in  one  place  and  then  in  another,  almost  every 
day.  They  seemed  to  find  increasing  pleasure  in  it  too. 
For  them  the  world  was  changing  faster  than  they  knew, 
and  it  did  not  revolve  any  slower  for  the  fact  that  omnipo 
tent  love  was  lending  its  shoulder  to  the  change. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE     MARBLE     LIE. 

AT  an  early  period  after  the  opening  of  the  Exposition, 
Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  had  said  to  her  son  and  daughter  : 
"  As  you  know,  I  am  not  very  fond  of  what  is  called  art. 
My  tastes  are  too  simple.  You  laugh  at  me  for  preferring 
the  congregational  singing  at  the  Protestant  Church  to  the 
grandest  music  either  of  the  opera  or  the  cathedral.  It  is 
the  same  of  painting  and  sculpture.  There  are  really  but 
two  works  of  art  in  the  Exposition  which  have  fastened  my 
attention." 

"Which  are  they,  mamma?"  Mary  asked,  eagerly. 
"  There  is  one  which  I  love  to  look  at  more  than  any  other. 
But  your  two  ;  which  are  they  ?  Are  they  English,  Spanish, 
Belgian,  Italian  ?  " 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  with  a  smile,  "  I  will  not  tell 
you.  You  and  Henry  must  pick  them  out  for  yourselves. 
I  will  give  you  only  this  clew :  both  are  admirably  done, 


go  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

but  one  represents  a  falsehood,  the  blackest  falsehood  of 
which  I  can  conceive  ;  the  other  is  truth  itself,  truth  to  na 
ture,  I  mean." 

"Please  tell  us  ?"  her  son  entreated.  "It  is  the  first 
time  we  have  heard  you  express  a  special  interest  in  such 
things.  Which  are  they  ?  " 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  shaking  her  head  good-humor- 
edly,  "  I  will  leave  you  to  find  out.  I  am  almost  anxious  to 
see  if  your  education  has  so  changed  the  mother  in  you — yes, 
and  I  think  I  may  say  the  father  in  you  too— that  you  will 
not  hit  upon  them  for  yourselves." 

It  was  said  in  such  a  way  as  to  awaken  quite  an  interest 
in  the  mind  of  Mary  in  particular.  Being  a  woman,  she  had 
more  curiosity  than  her  brother,  but  she  said  so  much  about 
it  to  him  as  they  wandered,  afterward,  through  the  innumer 
able  statues  and  paintings,  that  he  also  grew  eager  to  make 
the  discovery. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  when  I  was  hunting  antelope  in  Colo 
rado,"  he  said  to  her.  "  We  men  are  made  to  pursue  things, 
as  much  so  as  a  deerhound  is  to  chase  a  buck.  Besides,"  he 
added,  "  when  I  do  find  them  I  intend  to  buy  them,  if  it 
takes  my  last  cent.  I  have  not  made  my  mother  a  present 
for  a  long  time.  It  is  the  first  occasion  upon  which  she  has 
expressed  a  desire  for  anything  of  the  kind." 

Every  week  or  two  Mrs.  Harris  would  ask,  of  an  even 
ing,  "  Well,  Henry,  Mary,  have  you  found  them  ?  " 

"  Mamma  takes  a  singular  interest  in  her  ideals  of  art," 
Mary  remarked  to  her  brother  one  day  when  they  were  in 
the  Exposition.  "  Last  night  she  told  me  that  she  would 
make,  to  the  one  who  finds  them,  a  gift.  The  one  of  us  who 
hits  upon  what  she  calls  the  greatest  falsehood  she  has  ever 
known  to  be  represented  by  an  artist  shall  have  something 
valuable.  But  you  need  not  think  she  would  accept  it  if  you 
found  and  bought  it,  for  she  says  she  would  not  have  it  in 
her  house." 

"  And  what  will  she  give  us  if  we  find  the  other,  the  rep 
resentation  of  truth  she  spoke  of  ?  "  her  brother  demanded. 


THE  MARBLE  LIE.  81 

"  I  wonder  what  it  is  ?  "  Mary  Harris  exclaimed,  with  en 
thusiasm.  "  She  told  me  that  she  would  make  you  or  me, 
whichever  of  us  finds  that,  the  best  present  she  ever  gave. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  for  her  gifts  that  we  care,  but  it  will 
gratify  her  so.  Suppose  we  devote  to-day  to  a  deliberate 
search  for  her  masterpieces  ?  " 

It  was  a  dull  and  disagreeable  day.  Moreover,  a  long- 
anticipated  fete  was  taking  place  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
city.  They  had  never  seen  so  few  persons  in  attendance, 
and  Henry  Harris,  his  sister  leaning  upon  his  arm,  slowly 
and  carefully  examined  with  her  a  vast  number  of  the 
works  of  art  which  adorned  the  Exposition.  They  had  set 
tled  upon  nothing  when  they  withdrew  to  dine,  but  they  re 
newed  the  search  afterward.  It  was  nearly  time  to  leave 
the  building  before  they  could  agree  to  abandon  the  attempt. 
The  day  had  grown  darker  and  darker  ;  a  silence  had  fallen 
upon  the  vast  spaces  usually  thronged  by  a  laughing  multi 
tude  chattering  in  all  languages.  Both  had  grown  weary  of 
the  interminable  diversity  of  artistic  effort  in  bronze  and 
marble,  upon  ivory  and  canvas.  Battle-pictures,  heathen 
divinities,  martyrs,  Madonnas,  landscapes,  representations  of 
luxury  and  of  poverty,  of  comedy  and  of  tragedy,  of  inno 
cence  and  of  vice,  had  been  passed  in  review  in  vain. 

"Let  us  give  it  up  for  to-day,"  the  brother  remarked  to 
his  sister,  at  last,  after  they  had  almost  settled  upon  and 
then  had  abandoned  this  picture  or  work  in  marble  and  then 
that.  "  Come,  Mary,  they  will  be  expecting  us  ;  let  us  go." 

"  In  one  moment.  For,"  she  added,  slowly,  "  I  have 
found  it,"  in  almost  solemn  tones. 

Henry  Harris  glanced  up  at  the  work  of  Dore  before 
wThich  his  sister  was  standing.  It  represented  a  female  fig 
ure,  draped  with  a  hood  and  somber  garments.  Between  its 
knees,  as  it  sat,  stood  a  winged  and  beautiful  youth  in  the 
full  flush  of  innocent  enjoyment,  eager-eyed,  abounding  in 
life.  The  hands  of  the  austere  female  form  lay  calm  and 
strong  upon  either  side  of  the  youth,  and  from  the  one  sin 
ewy  hand  to  the  other  extended  the  thread,  as  of  its  life.  In 


82  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  right  hand  of  the  awful  form  were  the  shears,  in  the  act 
of  closing  upon  the  tiny  thread  ;  and  Mary  Harris  pointed 
silently  upward  to  the  contrasted  faces  of  the  two.  That  of 
the  youth  was  open,  joyous,  utterly  unconscious  of  danger, 
while,  immediately  over  it,  inside  its  half -concealing  hood, 
the  face  of  the  woman  appeared,  old  as  eternity,  with  cav 
ernous  eyes,  cold  and  rigid  features,  passionless,  inflexible. 
Neither  love  nor  hate  was  in  that  terrible  aspect ;  only  un 
reasoning,  unfeeling,  unalterable  doom. 

There  was  no  need  for  either  to  tell  the  other  that  it  was 
a  symbol  of  Fate.  The  artist  had  done  his  work  with  too 
terrible  a  fidelity  for  any  mistake  concerning  that. 

"  Yes,"  Mary  Harris  said,  after  they  had  gazed  upon  it  in 
silence  for  some  time,  "  I  know  that  this  is  what  my  mother 
spoke  of,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  was  so  deeply  struck  by 
it.  For  it  is  a  lie,"  she  continued,  with  deep  feeling.  "  Heathen 
genius  ascended,  in  that,  to  the  highest  summit  of  its  igno 
rance  of  God.  That  horrible  fate  is  the  sublimity  of  its  de 
spair  of  knowing  anything  beyond  an  inexorable  law  which, 
as  philosopher  and  poet  agreed,  governs  alike  men  and  gods. 
And  my  mother  is  right,"  the  girl  added,  with  energy  ;  "  it 
is  to-day  a  lie  ;  the  blackest  of  lies  !  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  fate  !  Now  we  know  better.  "We  know  that  God  is  our 
Father,  and  we  know  that  God  is  love  ; "  and  the  voice  of 
the  speaker  faltered,  her  eyes  were  full  of  happy  tears,  and 
the  two  turned  and  walked  away  in  silence. 

"  Yes ;  you  have  found  my  falsehood,"  Mrs.  Harris  said 
to  them  that  night,  "  and  you  need  not  fear  that  I  will  forget 
my  reward.  I  knew  that  you  would  find  it,  my  dear,"  and 
she  drew  Mary  to  her,  and  kissed  her  with  unusual  affection. 
"  And  now,  Mary,  Henry,"  she  added,  "  which  of  you  will 
find  out  my  ideal  of  truth — purely  human  truth  ?  Take 
your  time  for  it." 


THE  BIRTH  OF  ADVENTURE.  83 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   BIRTH    OF    ADVENTURE. 

IT  so  happened  one  day  that  Lord  Conyngham  and  Lady 
Blanche  came  upon  Henry  Harris  and  his  sister  as  they  were 
standing  before  a  large  painting  representing  a  battle.  These 
last  had  been  in  vain  search  of  the  remaining  work  of  art  in 
which  their  mother  was  so  deeply  interested. 

"  I  am  almost  sure  that  I  know  which  it  is,  but,"  Mary 
Harris  had  said  to  her  brother,  "  I  found  one  of  the  two,  and 
I  am  determined  that  you  shall  have  the  reward  for  finding 
the  other." 

"  Shall  I  ? "  her  brother  was  just  saying  when  he  ob 
served  their  friends  near  them,  and,  after  due  salutation, 
the  young  people  fell  into  conversation  concerning  the  mass 
of  conflict  and  rolling  smoke,  charging  horses  and  desperate 
men,  before  which  they  stood.  The  cheek  of  Lady  Blanche 
took  an  additional  color  as  she  gazed,  her  form  became  more 
erect. 

"  I  wonder  you  gentlemen  are  not  somewhat  ashamed  of 
yourselves,"  she  remarked.  "  How  can  you  see  in  this  and 
in  so  many  other  pictures  the  glorious  struggles  of  heroes, 
and  be  contented  to  do  nothing?  That  you  should  be  a 
man,  Alfred,"  she  added,  "  and  be  satisfied  to  find  your  only 
laurels  at  billiard-tables  and  in  parlors,  at  balls  and  concerts, 
astonishes  me.  At  best  your  only  field  of  victory  is  a  tennis 
court  or  a  garden  party.  If  I  were  a  man — "  and  she  turned 
upon  her  brother  with  kindling  eyes.  Lord  Conyngham  took 
her  indignant  looks  coolly  enough,  until,  at  last,  he  detected 
the  milder  eyes  of  the  fair  American  fastened  upon  him,  and 
then  he  colored  somewhat  and  moved  uneasily. 

But  if  the  wrath  of  Lady  Blanche  had  little  effect  upon 
her  brother,  long  accustomed  to  it,  in  glancing  from  his  armor 
it  smote  and  slew  the  other  gentleman.  It  was  not  that  she 
seemed  so  beautiful,  that  her  pride  was  as  that  of  an  angry 
angel — it  was  not  this  merely,  but  that  she  gave  words  to  a 


84  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

deep  and  long-concealed  purpose  of  his  own.  He  now  felt 
sincerely  ashamed  that  he  had  put  off  the  execution  so  long. 
He  said  nothing,  however. 

"  What  can  a  man  do  ?  "  Lord  Conyngham  hastened  to 
say,  addressing  himself  to  his  spirited  sister,  but  really  speak 
ing  to  the  other  lady.  "  Shall  I  proceed  to  slap  the  cheeks 
of  that  gesticulating  Frenchman  in  continuation  of  Water 
loo  ?  Yonder  is  a  solemn  Spaniard.  His  people  once  fought 
us  at  Trafalgar.  We  beat  them  then  from  behind  our  float 
ing  walls.  Shall  I  burst  over  the  stronger  bulwarks  of  pro 
priety  and  knock  him  down  ?  We  are  the  protectors  of  the 
Turks.  There  stands  my  mysterious  friend  Hassan  Pasha  to 
approve,  and,  if  necessary,  come  to  my  assistance  ;  shall  I 
rush  upon  the  Russian  prince  I  see  by  the  fountain,  and 
pitch  him  in  ?  Very  good,  I  am  willing,"  and  he  began  with 
a  solemn  air  to  tuck  up  his  sleeves. 

"  Nonsense,  Alfred,"  his  sister  said  without  a  smile,  al 
though  the  rest  were  laughing,  "  you  know  that  '  peace  hath 
its  victories  as  well  as  war.' " 

"Assuredly  so,  as  my  father  observes  ;  but  what  exact 
conquest  shall  I  set  about  ? "  Lord  Conyngham  demanded. 
"  I  already  do  my  best  to  add  to  the  oratory  in  Parliament. 
You  were  eager  to  build  model  cottages  upon  our  estate,  and 
you  know  I  almost  became  a  bricklayer  in  carrying  out  your 
wishes  in  regard  to  that.  Shall  I  rush  over  to  Ireland  and 
stir  up  the  Home  Rulers  ?  Shall  I  build  a  hospital  ?  estab 
lish  a  new  Tory  journal  ?  organize  an  expedition  to  the  North 
Pole,  or  an  emigration  to  Australia  ?  Here  is  Mr.  Harris  to 
help  me ;  shall  I  turn  American  and  invent  a  new  mowing 
machine  ?  devise  a  big  balloon  to  bring  over  a  prairief ul  of 
cattle  at  a  time  ?  Shall  I—  " 

Lady  Blanche  glanced  at  her  brother  with  some  surprise; 
generally  he  was  not  so  quick  to  answer  her  attacks.  Like 
most  of  his  rank,  he  had  seemed  to  be  merely  a  man  of 
fashion,  content  to  enjoy  himself  however  and  wherever  he 
could.  Now  he  appeared  to  be  aroused.  Mary  Harris  seemed 
to  be  uncommonly  interested  in  the  carnage  going  on  upon 


THE  BIRTH  OF  ADVENTURE.  85 

the  canvas  before  which  they  stood,  but  her  color  was 
heightened  ;  evidently  she  was  listening  with  deep  interest. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  the  young  nobleman 
continued.  "Until  Dizzy  contrives  to  plunge  us  into  an 
imperial  onset  upon  Russia,  I  will  get  my  father  to  allow 
me  to  try  the  latest  invention  in  rifles  upon  a  few  American 
Indians.  What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Harris  ?  Could  I  get  a  shot 
at  Sitting  Bull  if  I  went  over  ?  There  is  the  Comanche 
brave,  what  do  you  call  him — the  Man-afraid-of-his-Squaws, 
isn't  it  ?  But,  no,  poor  beggar  !  he  suffers  enough  already  at 
their  hands.  I  wouldn't  have  the  heart  to  shoot  at  him,  un 
less,  indeed,  he  wants  to  be  put  out  of  his  miseiy.  But,  jok 
ing  aside,"  and  the  young  nobleman  confronted  his  sister  se 
riously  as  he  proceeded,  "  will  your  ladyship  be  good  enough 
to  tell  me  precisely  what  you  would  have  me  to  do  ?  What 
ever  it  is,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  will  at  least  try." 

Mary  Harris  lifted  her  eyes  with  hardly  concealed  admira 
tion  at  the  one  who  spoke.  Trained  in  all  physical  exercises, 
too,  he  was  an  athlete  out  of  employ. 

"  I  remember  how  it  was  in  the  Crimea,"  she  ventured, 
for  Lady  Blanche  did  not  know  how  to  reply.  "  I  have  read 
all  I  could  lay  my  hands  on  about  the  Redan  and  the  Mala- 
koff,  and  how  the  young  Englishmen  from  the  London  club 
houses  fought  like  tigers.  So  it  was  in  our  civil  war,  North 
and  South  ;  the  men  who  could  endure  most,  too,  were  those 
of  the  best  blood  among  us — I  mean  of  the  best  breeding  and 
education.  I  am  sure  that  my  brother  and — and  you,  my 
lord,"  she  added,  modestly,  "  would  do  your  duty  when  the 
time  came.  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  it."  She  laid  her  hand,  as  she 
spoke,  upon  her  brother's  arm,  but  there  was  that  in  her 
voice  which  made  the  nobleman  thrill  with  satisfaction.  It 
was  as  if  her  hand  had  been  placed  upon  his  arm  instead. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Mary,"  he  said  with  more  feeling  than 
he  usually  showed.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  added,  "  I  am  try 
ing  to  induce  your  brother  to  go  with  me  on  a  hunting  ex 
cursion  in  Alaska,  Nevada,  Oregon,  somewhere  in  your  im 
mense  America.  I  am  eager  to  go  there.  If  I  get  tired  of 


86  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

buffalo  and  elk,  of  wild-cat  and  panther,  I  will  turn  farmer. 
Your  very  husbandmen  are  heroes  ;  you  have,  I  am  told,  ten 
thousand  acres  in  wheat  under  one  fence  !  " 

Henry  Harris  had  remained  silent  as  if  in  thought.  He 
now  remarked  : 

"  I  saw  something  in  one  of  those  harvest-fields  when  I 
was  over  there  which  was  the  oddest  of  sights.  It  was  a  ripe 
field  of  twenty  thousand  acres,  my  lord,  a  yellow  sea  of 
wheat.  There  were  four  fine  horses  attached  to  a  machine, 
which  not  only  reaped  but  bound  what  it  reaped  into  sheaves 
as  it  went.  I  was  watching  it  reap  and  toss  the  bound 
sheaves  out  as  it  rolled  on.  Suddenly  the  horses  took  fright, 
for  they  were  not  half  broken,  and  dashed  off  through  the 
center  of  the  wheat,  where  it  was  thickest  and  ripest,  the 
machine  at  their  heels.  As  they  tore  along  the  machine 
reaped  and  whirled  the  sheaves,  tightly  bound,  to  the  right 
and  the  left  as  usual,  only  ten  times  faster.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  amusing  sights  I  ever  saw." 

The  young  American  went  on  to  speak  of  other  experi 
ences  of  his  in  his  own  country,  and  it  was  the  Englishwoman 
now  who  listened  with  most  interest ;  there  was  so  much  of  the 
breadth  and  vigor  of  the  New  World  in  the  one  who  spoke, 
a  noble  something  which  every  day  charmed  her  more  and 
more,  by  reason  also  of  its  freshness  in  distinction  from  her 
somewhat  wearied  experiences. 

The  next  day  the  two  men  met  at  the  Bodega,  and  en 
gaged  in  a  long  and  animated  conversation. 

"  Think  well  of  it,  my  lord,"  Henry  Harris  said,  as  they 
parted.  "  As  you  see,  it  is  a  hazardous  enterprise,  but  it  is 
also,  as  I  believe,  a  thoroughly  sensible  one.  It  will  carry  us 
deep  into  England,  Germany,  Russia  ;  upon  a  serious  errand, 
I  assure  you.  If  you  determine  to  go  into  it  with  me,  let  me 
know  as  soon  as  you  can.  It  is  best  to  say  nothing  about  it 
meanwhile.  I  have  long  intended  to  try  it,  and  will,  whether 
you  go  with  me  or  not ;  but  I  will  be  glad  of  your  company." 

And  the  American  and  Englishman  shook  hands  with 
cordial  good-will  when  they  separated. 


ISIDORE  ATCHISON,  ARTIST.  87 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

ISIDORE    ATCHISOX,    ARTIST. 

ONE  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  the  discovery  of  the 
"  Fate  "  which  was  Mrs.  Harris's  supreme  symbol  of  false 
hood,  Henry  Harris  and  his  sister  had  wandered  into  the 
section  of  the  Exposition  in  which  were  displayed  the  con 
tributions  of  American  sculptors.  The  Old  World  greatly 
surpassed  the  New  in  this  respect.  As  the  Exposition  har 
vested  more  than  two  thousand  years  of  artistic  effort,  and 
from  all  the  fields  of  the  Eastern  and  ripest  half  of  the  planet, 
America  could  not  have  been  expected  to  vie  with  the  rest  of 
the  race  in  this  respect,  especially  as  its  young  energies  have 
been  necessarily  given  to  things  more  essential  to  existence  ; 
and  yet,  even  in  this  respect,  there  were  among  its  exhibits 
at  least  the  buds  and  beginnings  of  the  grandest  results. 

"  It  is  a  significant  fact,"  Henry  Harris  said  to  his  sister, 
"  that  art  in  America  seems  to  be  given  over,  and  every  day 
in  an  increasing  degree,  to  woman.  It  is  one  of  the  many 
things  I  do  not  understand  ;  do  not  understand,  because  as 
yet  nobody  understands  that  which  is  only  beginning  to  be 
born.  One  only  knows  that  woman  is  the  reserve  force  of 
the  race." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Mary  Harris  asked. 

"  This  :  men  have  had  their  opportunity  for  nearly  six 
thousand  years.  By  hard  work  in  the  field,  the  shop,  the 
council-chamber,  upon  the  decks  of  ships,  and  on  the  battle 
ground — yes,  and  in  the  pulpit,  the  editor's  office,  and  the 
halls  of  schools  and  universities — in  these  and  other  places 
men  have  accomplished  the  civilization  of  the  world  up  to 
date." 

"Men  are,  at  last,  only  what  their  mothers,  sisters,  and 
wives  make  them,"  Mary  said,  defiantly. 

"  Very  true,  and  to  a  greater  measure  than  any  of  us  im 
agine.  But,"  her  brother  added,  with  energy,  "  woman  is 
going  to  be  the  last,  the  most  powerful,  the  completing  force 


88  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

of  history  ;  not  by  becoming  more  like  men,  but  by  re 
maining  distinctively  woman.  Hassan  Pasha,  Ishra  Dhass, 
are  right ;  woman  is  to  become  more  Rachel-like,  Ruth-like, 
Eve-like — oh,  I  do  not  know  how  to  express  it ! — more 
purely  and  intensely  feminine,  unlike  men — you  know  what 
I  mean — icomaw-like,  than  she  has  been  for  ages.  But,  to 
a  degree  of  which  neither  Turk,  Hindoo,  nor  anybody  else 
dreams  of,  she  is,  as  such,  to  save  the  world.  I  can't  tell 
how,  but  I  am  certain  of  it !  It  may  be,  by  becoming  a  new 
and  supreme  power  in  literature,  in  art,  as  well  as  in  morals 
— who  can  say?  Look,  for  instance,  at  this." 

They  had  halted  before  the  head  of  an  old  man  cut  in 
marble,  and  he  added  :  "  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,  but  I  can 
not  get  rid  of  this  bust.  It  struck  me  when  I  first  saw  it ; 
almost  every  day  I  find  myself  drawn  back  to  it  from  the 
farthest  parts  of  the  Exposition.  Look  at  it.  You  see  it  is 
the  bowed  head  of  an  old  scholar,  apparently.  See  how  thin 
the  hair  is,  how  hollow  the  temples,  how  refined  the  nostrils, 
how  broad  the  brows.  The  eyes  are  sunken,  and  gazing 
downward  ;  the  shoulders  are  weighed  down  as  if  under — " 

"  A  cross,"  his  sister  added. 

"  Precisely.  Now,"  the  young  man  continued,  as  he  led 
her  slowly  from  point  to  point,  so  as  to  obtain  a  complete 
view  of  the  marble,  "  what  do  you  think  is  the  one  idea  ex 
pressed  by  the  artist  ?  Unless  I  am  an  idiot  there  is  but  one 
idea,  only  one  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  A  person  would  be  blind  as  well  as  dull  not  to  see  that," 
his  sister  answered,  with  a  suppressed  triumph.  "The  artist 
has  made  patience,  endurance,  serene  trust,  absolutely  visible. 
He  has  turned  the  abstract  virtue  into  living  stone." 

"Jle!"  her  brother  exclaimed.  "He!  Do  you  not 
know,  Mary,  that  it  is  not  a  man — it  is  a  woman — who  cre 
ated  it  ?  I  am  astonished  at  you  1  No,  I  am  not ;  a  woman 
can  do  justice  to  everything  else  in  the  universe  except  to 
a  woman.  Dean  Swift  made  that  discovery,  bitter  and  bad 
as  he  was,  years  ago.  It  is  a  woman  who  carved  it." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  Mary  asked,  incredulously. 


ISIDORE  ATCHISON,  ARTIST.  89 

"  I  know  it !  Look  here,  Mary,  I  will  make  a  bet  with 
you,  a  one-sided  bet ;  that  is,  if  the  artist  is  not  a  woman  I 
will  give  you  the  finest  watch  I  can  find  in  Paris.  More 
than  that,  I  will  have  Worth  make  you  the  most  beautiful 
dress  he  has  ever  turned  out  if  this  marble  is  not  the  one 
my  mother  picked  out  as  her  idea  of  truth.  What  do  you 
say  ?  " 

Mary  Harris  glanced  around,  saw  that  no  one  was  very 
near,  and  clapped  her  hands  in  triumph. 

"  O  Henry,"  she  said,  "  if  you  only  knew  it,  you  are  an  ar 
tist  yourself  !  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  you  are  a  genius. 
For  some  time  I  was  almost  certain  that  this  is  the  work 
mamma  meant.  Last  night  I  asked  her,  and  she  said  yes. 
But  I  was  determined  not  to  give  you  a  hint,  to  let  you  find 
it  out  for  yourself.  I  am  so  glad  !  Because,"  she  added, 
"  it  shows  you  have  something  nobler  in  you  than  mere 
genius.  If  I  was  sure  that  everybody  knew  you  were  my 
brother,  or  that  nobody  saw  me,  I  would  kiss  you  !  Mamma 
will  be  so  delighted  !  But,"  and  she  shook  her  head,  "  it 
never  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  a  woman's  work.  I  don't 
believe  it  is." 

"  Let  us  ask  some  one."  As  Henry  Harris  said  it,  he  ob 
served  that  a  lady  was  standing  half  concealed  behind  an 
equestrian  bronze  not  far  off.  She  was  dressed  in  black,  and 
had  a  veil  over  her  face. 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind,  as  we  have  no  catalogue — "  Mary 
Harris  ventured  to  ask  of  her  in  French.  "  Do  you  know 
who  is  the  artist  in  this  case  ?  "  and  she  pointed  to  the  bust. 
The  lady  paused  a  moment,  and  then  lifted  her  veil,  reveal 
ing  the  face  of  a  lovely  girl. 

"It  is  the  work  of  a  Miss  Isidore  Atchison,"  she  said  in 
English  ;  but  her  eyes  fell,  her  cheeks  were  suffused  with 
color,  and  Mary  Harris  saw  that  her  large  hazel  eyes  were 
swimming  with  tears. 

"I  thank  you,"  the  inquirer  added,  and  turned  away 
eagerly,  while  her  brother  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed. 

"  Didn't  you  understand  ?  "  the  sister  asked  her  brother, 


90  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

when  they  were  out  of  hearing.  "  It  is  the  artist  herself. 
As  sure  as  you  live  she  heard  what  we  said  ;  how  could  she 
help  it  ?  I  am  so  glad  she  did.  And  did  you  see  how  pale 
she  was  ?  Poor  thing,  she  must  feel  lost  in  this  great  ocean 
of  people.  I'm  afraid  you  did  not  see  how  proud  and  pleased 
she  was  by  what  she  had  heard  us  say." 

"  I  saw  her,"  Henry  Harris  said,  "  saw  her  distinctly.  I 
intend  to  buy  the  marble,  and  make  it  a  present  to  my 
mother." 

"Suppose  we  go  right  back  and  talk  to  her  now,"  the 
sister  said  impulsively.  "  She  had  such  a  lovely  face.  Come, 
let  us  go." 

"  No,"  her  brother  replied,  deliberately.  "  I  would  rather 
not  attend  to  it  to-day.  I  have  reasons.  Besides,  I  want 
to  go  and  tell  my  mother  about  it  first." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FATHER    AND    CHILD. 

ON  the  same  day  as  that  upon  which  Henry  Harris  had 
found  what  his  sister  described  as  "  Patience  on  a  pedestal, 
smiling  at  Grief,"  there  sat  an  old  man  in  an  attic  room  of  a 
building  on  one  of  the  obscurest  streets  of  Paris.  The  apart 
ment  was  small  and  poorly  lighted  by  two  dormer-windows 
in  the  roof.  In  one  corner  stood  the  iron  bedstead  occupied 
by  the  man  at  night ;  in  the  other,  and  so  placed  that  the 
light  could  fall  upon  it  from  above,  was  a  strong  wooden 
stand,  upon  which  was  a  heap  of  something  covered  with  a 
coarse,  wet  cloth.  Small  and  poor  as  the  room  was,  it  was 
scrupulously  neat,  as  was  the  clothing  of  the  aged  tenant, 
who  was  seated  at  a  table,  his  back  to  the  window  which 
opened  over  his  bed.  He  was  carving  flowers  in  wood,  a 
bouquet  of  roses  and  lilies  standing  in  a  vase  at  his  right 
hand.  It  seemed  to  be  a  work  of  difficulty,  for  he  was  toil- 


FATHER  AND   CHILD.  91 

ing  with  his  left  hand  only,  while  the  other  lay  paralyzed  in 
a  pillow  placed  in  his  lap.  The  white  hair  was  scattered  in 
thin  locks  over  the  noble  head,  the  shoulders  were  bowed, 
the  temples  were  hollow ;  you  would  have  recognized  at  a 
glance  the  sublime  serenity  which  had  made  so  deep  an  im 
pression  upon  Mrs.  Harris  and  her  children  as  reproduced  in 
the  marble  at  the  Exposition.  Evidently  the  old  man  was 
an  artist.  You  saw  it  in  the  refinement  of  his  face  ;  in  the 
slow  but  sure  movements  of  the  skilled  hand  ;  especially  in 
the  air,  almost  of  distinction,  which  clothed  his  whole  person 
as  if  in  an  aureole.  It  seemed  a  matter  of  course  that  the 
carving  should  be  admirably  done,  yet  even  then  you  could 
not  but  be  surprised  at  the  manner  in  which  the  hard  oak 
actually  bloomed,  beneath  the  sharp  tool,  into  almost  the 
blush  of  the  rose  and  the  fragrance  as  well  as  delicacy  of  the 
lily. 

Suddenly  the  artist  paused,  sat  with  tool  suspended,  a 
new  light  in  his  eye.  He  had  heard,  although  no  other 
could  have  done  so,  the  sound  of  a  footstep  upon  a  distant 
stair,  and  knew  whose  it  was.  He  was  right.  A  few  mo 
ments  after,  the  young  girl  whom  Mary  Harris  accosted  at 
the  Exposition  entered  the  room  and  stooped  down  and 
kissed  him  as  he  sat. 

"Oh,  no,  father,"  she  said,  "not  so  late  as  this."  And 
she  took  the  tool  from  his  hand,  drew  the  table  away  out  of 
his  reach,  kissed  him  again  to  hush  his  remonstrances,  and, 
taking  off  her  wrappings  and  hat,  carried  them  into  a  smaller 
room,  a  mere  closet,  in  fact,  curtained  off  from  the  other. 
She  then  busied  herself  to  prepare  the  evening  meal.  The 
fare  was  simple,  and  it  did  not  take  long. 

"  How  well  you  are  doing  them,  father  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
as  she  removed  the  carving  and  the  flowers  from  the  table, 
covered  it  with  a  clean  cloth,  set  upon  it  the  modest  furnish 
ing  for  their  supper,  crowning  the  whole  with  a  teapot, 
which  sent  up  its  fragrant  steam  from  over  a  spirit-lamp. 

While  they  are  at  table  their  history  may  be  told  in  few 
words.  Zerah  Atchison  had  been  an  artist  from  his  child- 


92  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

hood,  in  an  obscure  town  in  Virginia.  He  had  studied  hard 
in  such  books  as  he  could  secure,  and  had  worked  steadily. 
While  qualifying  himself  to  be  a  great  painter,  as  he  hoped, 
he  had  taken  portraits,  had  condescended  to  lay  aside  brush 
and  easel  and  become  a  photographer  even — anything  in 
order  to  perfect  himself,  meanwhile,  by  severe  study.  His 
delight  in  beauty  was  not  confined,  however,  to  that  of  the 
ideal  world.  While  painting  the  portrait  of  the  daughter  of 
a  wealthy  planter  near  Richmond,  he  had  fallen  in  love  with 
and  married  her.  Then  came  the  civil  war.  As  it  began,  a 
daughter  was  born  to  them.  But  trouble  came  to  them  as 
to  all  of  their  region.  The  artist  was  not  a  young  man  when 
he  married,  and  by  no  means  a  rich  one.  Always  of  a  deli 
cate  and  sensitive  nature,  his  health  had  been  impaired  by 
the  wholly  unaccustomed  life  he  had  led  as  a  soldier  in 
the  trenches  and  upon  the  battle-field.  After  that  came 
the  ruin  of  his  father-in-law,  who  lost  everything  in  the  re 
sult  of  the  war,  and  who  died  soon  after.  But  the  severest 
blow  was  the  death  of  his  wife,  which  followed  speedily  upon 
that.  Shattered  as  he  was,  Mr.  Atchison  would  have  given 
up  the  struggle,  and  himself  been  swept  away  in  the  vast 
wreck  which  burdened  the  ebbing  tide  of  the  Rebellion,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  his  daughter.  What,  in  case  of  his  death, 
would  become  of  her?  The  will  of  the  man — the  heart, 
rather,  of  the  father — reenforced  his  expiring  energies.  Toil 
ing  at  whatever  offered  as  well  as  he  could,  he  contrived  not 
only  to  sustain,  but  to  give  his  only  child  an  excellent  educa 
tion.  His  strength  revived  as  she  grew.  It  was  not  only 
that  she  became  more  lovely  with  each  passing  year,  nor 
even  that,  under  his  careful  training,  she  developed  an  artis 
tic  power  superior  to  his  own — his  affection  had  awakened  in 
her  an  unbounded  devotion  in  return.  To  her  he  was  as 
a  mother  too  ;  she  gave  him  in  return  the  love  she  would 
otherwise  have  shared  with  brothers,  sisters,  friends,  for 
the  circumstances  of  their  case  had  isolated  father  and  child 
from  almost  any  other  association. 

"  And  now  I  am  so  glad  we  came  to  Paris,"  she  said,  as 


FATHER  AND  CHILD.  93 

she  sat  at  table  with  him.  "  When  your  little  accident  hap 
pened  " — it  was  thus  she  characterized  the  paralysis  which 
had  smitten  his  right  arm — "  I  saw  that  something  must  be 
done.  After  a  while  you  consented,  and  here  we  are." 

"  You  poor  child,"  her  father  said,  not  sadly,  only  loving 
ly  ;  "  and  now  that  we  are  here,  what  then  ?  Even  if  I  could 
go  to  the  Exposition  with  you,  what  could  I  do  ?  In  this 
great  Babylon  we  are  lost  among  the  crowd." 

"  More  than  Daniel  was  ?  More  than  Esther  was  ?  "  she 
demanded. 

"  At  best  it  is  like  an  immense  garden,  this  vast  Paris," 
her  father  continued,  "and  you,  Isidore,  you  are  like — 
like—" 

"  The  smallest  of  humming-birds  ;  and  yet,"  she  added, 
with  a  laugh,  "  there  is  not  a  flower  of  the  myriad  but  has  its 
honey  even  for  me." 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  eyes  of  her  father  lingered  upon 
her.  Slight  as  she  seemed,  she  was  elastic  and  strong.  Like 
a  Mother  Carey's  chicken,  she  had  been  born  in  the  storm,  of 
war  at  least ;  had  been  cradled  amid  the  blowing  of  its  sul 
phurous  winds,  the  rolling  of  its  red  billows,  and  her  char 
acter  gave  a  certain  daring  to  her  very  beauty. 

"  You  are  of  the  pure  Greek  type,  my  dear,"  her  father 
now  said  to  her,  somewhat  irrelevantly,  "except  that,  as  I 
have  always  maintained,  the  head  of  every  Venus  they  pro 
duced  is  invariably  too  small.  Yours  is  not." 

"  Dear  father,"  she  laughed,  "  you  have  told  me  that  so 
often.  Please  don't." 

"  Yes,"  her  father  persisted,  and  as  if  it  were  a  question 
of  mere  art,  "  but  you  are  growing  more  beautiful  every  day. 
You  ought  to  excel  Aspasia,  you  are  so  many  centuries  older  ; 
riper,  I  mean.  Besides,  you  have  had  such  a  severe  strain 
upon  you  as  even  Antigone  never  knew,  devoted  daughter 
as  she  was." 

"And  I  have  had  my  father  and  my  father's  faith,"  she 
added,  "  but  I  broke  down  to-day  ; "  and  she  told  him  at 
length  of  the  visit  of  Henry  Harris  and  his  sister  to  her  bust, 


94:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

and  what  was  said  by  them.  "I  could  not  help  hearing 
them,"  she  explained.  "  It  is  such  a  poor  little  bit  of  mar 
ble,  you  know.  If  it  were  a  huge  equestrian  statue  like  the 
one  near  it,  if  it  were  a  dancing  nymph,  a  convulsed  gladi 
ator,  a  Hercules  in  the  agony  of  his  poisoned  robe,  something 
of  that  kind,  it  would  be  different.  But  people  pour  by  it 
in  torrents  like  a  river.  Turks,  Persians,  Chinese,  Spaniards, 
Americans,  very  few  of  them  do  more  than  throw  an  in 
stant's  glance  at  it.  There  is  so  very  much  to  see,  people 
have  so  little  time.  I  told  you  weeks  ago  how  that  wise- 
looking,  motherly  lady  stopped  so  long  to  look  at  it.  Do 
you  know,  father,  I  am  sure  that  the  lady  and  gentleman 
who  praised  it  so  to-day  are  her  daughter  and  son  ?  It  was 
not  alone  that  they  resembled  her  so  much  in  their  faces  ; 
their  way  of  speaking  and  their  calm  manner  are  the  same. 
Are  they  Americans?"  she  demanded  of  herself  in  the 
same  breath.  "  N-n-no,  they  do  not  have  the  sharp,  eager, 
hurried  look  of  newly  arrived  Americans.  They  must  be 
English,  and  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  they  are  English 
people  of  rank." 

"  You  have  not  been  annoyed  again,  Isidore  ?  Hassan 
Pasha  has  not  dared — "  her  father  began  a  few  minutes 
after,  with  a  shade  of  anxiety. 

"Do  not  fear  for  me,  father  ;  I  can  take  care  of  myself," 
she  said,  with  a  change  of  face. 

"And  now  she  looks  like  Electra  !  "  her  father  murmured, 
almost  forgetting  his  question. 

"I  think  at  last,"  he  continued,  as  if  to  himself  and  ab 
stractedly,  "  that  the  soul  of  her  beauty  lies,  yes,  in  her  ge 
nius.  It  illumines  her  like  a  lamp  within  alabaster." 

"O  father,"  Isidore  exclaimed,  "a  looking-glass  should 
merely  reflect ;  it  ought  not  to  talk  also.  You  criticise  me 
as  if  I  were  a  plaster  model."  And  then  her  face  grew  still 
brighter.  "But  you  mistake,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  fal 
tered  as  she  looked  upon  his  patient  face.  "  It  is  not  my 
genius,  as  you  call  it  ;  the  only  genius  I  possess,  is  to  love." 


COSMOPOLITAN  COMPANY.  95 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

COSMOPOLITAN   COMPANY. 

ONE  evening  Earl  Dorrington  had  a  large  party  to  din 
ner.  Lady  Blanche  had  seen  to  it  that,  so  far  as  was  possible 
in  Paris,  their  apartments  should  resemble  those  at  home. 
With  the  Earl,  her  brother,  and  herself,  the  word  English 
meant  comfort  as  well  as  the  highest  civilization,  and  she 
had  done  her  best  to  obliterate  France  from  the  memory, 
at  least  for  the  time,  of  every  guest  also.  The  table  groaned 
with  the  old  plate,  and  Wilkins,  the  portly  butler,  seemed  to 
be,  in  his  black  suit  and  white  cravat,  more  purple  and  portly 
than  ever,  as  if  he  would  bar  out  the  least  glimpse  of  any 
thing  other  than  "  Hengland."  Earl  Dorrington,  to  do  him 
justice,  made  an  admirable  host,  and  there  was  something 
pleasing  in  the  manner  in  which  his  son  and  daughter  lent 
themselves  to  the  work  of  making  their  guests  enjoy  them 
selves.  It  was  as  if  Pride  clothed  itself,  for  the  hour,  in  the 
garb  of  Service,  and  Wilkins  himself  was  cold  and  reserved, 
a  haughty  aristocrat  in  comparison  to  them. 

After  dinner  the  ladies  grouped  themselves  for  a  mo 
ment  around  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris.  It  was  not  merely  that 
she  was  a  comely  dame,  that  her  dress  and  diamonds  would 
compare  with  those  of  any  of  the  ladies  of  rank  present,  but 
it  was  that  she  had,  as  has  been  before  observed,  a  certain 
air  of  quiet  command  which  arrested  the  attention  of  every 
one.  It  was  but  the  impression  which  good  sense  always 
makes,  but  it  is  not  often  that  common  sense  is  a  woman, 
and  is  immensely  wealthy,  and  wears  such  jewels.  More 
over,  the  lady  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  seemed  to  be  by  no 
means  desirous  of  monopolizing  the  conversation.  She  had 
enjoyed,  however,  and  for  years,  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  world  from  more  points  of  view  than  any  other  woman 
present,  and  her  long  and  ample  acquaintance  with  people  of 
all  prejudices  and  nationalities  enabled  her  to  come  at  the 
general  average  and  essence  and  result  of  things  beyond 
5 


96  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

even  the  two  or  three  women  of  genius — authors  and  artists, 
French,  English,  American — who  were  present. 

The  conversation  at  the  table  just  before  had  ranged 
over  the  leading  topics  of  the  time — the  German  Empire, 
the  prospects  of  the  Count  of  Chambord,  Henry  V,  the 
hope  of  the  Legitimists,  Russian  Nihilism,  the  struggle  be 
tween  Conservative  and  Radical  in  the  French  Republic,  the 
opening  of  Africa,  the  prospects  in  America.  With  instinc 
tive  good-breeding  every  one  dealt  only  in  such  assertions 
as  could  not  by  any  possibility  hurt  the  feelings  of  any 
other  of  the  variety  of  persons  present.  As  a  rule,  the  ladies 
were  more  interested  in  the  opera  and  the  fashions,  but  the 
Exposition  was  like  a  colossal  kaleidoscope  in  perpetual  revo 
lution,  and  it  stimulated  the  minds  even  of  these  to  higher 
thought  than  usual.  Moreover,  all  felt  that  society  was  in  a 
state  of  transition. 

"It  is  true,"  Earl  Dorrington  had  remarked  from  the 
head  of  the  table,  "  that  change  is  the  order  of  the  day. 
Nor  do  I  deny  that  great  discoveries  are  being  made  of  a  sci 
entific  nature.  Assuredly  so.  But  every  wheel  revolves 
upon  an  axis.  Birth,  blood,  rank,  divinely  appointed  author 
ity,  are  the  axis  at  last  of  all  movement.  Wealth,  talent, 
ambition,  success,  inventive  science  even,  and  art,  are  useful 
in  their  way,  and  yet " — with  a  wave  of  the  hand — "  how 
transitory  !  Amid  the  orbits  of  the  universe  the  Deity  re 
mains  in  absolute  rest.  So  does  that  which  bests  represents 
the  divine  government  upon  the  earth.  Else-,"  and  the  Earl 
paused  as  he  was  wont  to  do  in  Parliament  until  he  had  se 
cured  the  deepest  attention,  "else  would  all  things  rush  into 
hopeless  chaos  and  confusion.  Wine  with  you,  M.  de  For- 
tou." 

There  had  been  so  much  conversation  of  the  sort  that  the 
ladies  had  taken  the  topic  with  them  into  the  drawing-rooms. 
Not  that  the  Earl  had  spoken  unchallenged.  Men  of  many 
varieties  were  present,  and  much  had  been  said  for  and 
against.  The  Earl  did  not  object ;  if  a  less  sublime  illustra 
tion  than  his  own  may  be  used,  all  conversation  upon  politics 


COSMOPOLITAN  COMPANY.  97 

was  to  him  as  the  coruscations  of  the  kind  of  fireworks 
known  as  Catharine-wheels  ;  however  the  many-colored 
lights  flashed  from  it  to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left,  how 
ever  the  myriad  sparks  might  fly,  all  rotated  at  last  and 
ended  in  the  central  spike  which  upheld  it.  As  near  as  the 
Earl  could  make  out,  he  and  what  he  represented  was  that 
central  support.  Everything  beside  was  but  the  flurry  and 
the  many-colored  flash  of  the  instant. 

"  I  do  not  pretend,"  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  remarked  to 
the  ladies  about  her,  "  to  understand  our  times.  As  a  woman 
and  an  American,  I  have,  of  course,  my  own  views,  and  yet 
to  me  the  progress  of  events  is  like  the  process  in  a  cask  of 
wine.  None  of  us  know  the  many  ingredients,  the  secret 
chemistries,  going  on  over  the  world-  What  we  all  are  sure 
of  is  that  the  fermentation  of  men  and  of  nations,  as  of  grapes, 
is  according  to  a  divine  law.  The  process  I  do  not  compre 
hend  ;  concerning  the  result,  I  have  not  the  least  anxiety." 

"Kismet!" 

The  lady  looked  up.  Hassan  Pasha  had  entered  the 
drawing-room  and  was  standing  beside  her  daughter  near  by. 
He  had  uttered  the  exclamation  in  a  low  tone,  but  Mrs.  Har 
ris  smiled  at  him  and  shook  her  head.  "Not  at  all,"  she 
said  ;  "  my  daughter  will  tell  you,"  she  added, "  what  we  all 
think  of  Dore's  representation  of  Fate." 

"  I  will  be  delighted  to  hear  ;  to  her  even  Fate  must  sur 
render,"  the  Pasha  replied  with  a  bow,  and  he  turned  away 
the  more  willingly  to  listen  to  Mary  Harris  as  at  that  mo 
ment  the  Hindoo,  Ishra  Dhass  Gunga,  came  into  the  room 
with  a  number  of  gentlemen. 

The  wise  Brahmin  had,  when  he  first  arrived  in  Eng 
land,  brought  letters  from  the  Episcopal  Bishop  of  Calcutta, 
as  also  from  the  Viceroy  and  lesser  officials  of  British  rule  in 
India.  The  Queen  had  herself  received  him  with  favor  ;  he 
had  addressed  many  convocations  of  various  kinds  in  Eng 
land  and  France  ;  and  everywhere  he  had  been  received  into 
the  best  society.  If  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  Brahmin 
was  at  the  time  the  rage  in  many  circles. 


98  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

Even  the  Frenchmen  present  had  to  confess  that  the  Hin 
doo  seemed  to  enjoy  life  yet  more  than  themselves.  With 
his  snowy  turban,  flowing  robes,  laughing  black  eyes,  he 
seemed  to  be  the  incarnation  of  enjoyment  as  he  was  of  health. 
With  it  all  was  a  certain  smooth  and  flowing  manner,  as  of 
perfect  breeding.  And  yet,  supple  and  smiling  as  he  was, 
people  had  come  to  know  that  he  was  as  thoroughly  informed 
in  regard  to  Europe  as  in  reference  to  India.  He  was  vigor 
ous  too,  and  as  alert  as  an  acrobat. 

" He  is  enfant  terrible"  was  the  remark  often  made  of 
him,  so  frank  was  he  in  many  of  his  sayings.  Even  when 
people  were  most  startled,  he  laughed  and  did  not  care.  He 
was  petted,  was  in  splendid  spirits,  enjoyed  to  his  finger-tips 
the  excitements  of  the  time,  and  yet,  as  all  came  to  know, 
the  current  which  lifted  and  bore  him  on  was  that  of  a  pur 
pose  which  had  taken  possession  of  the  whole  man,  a  purpose 
deep  and  strong. 

"Our  friend  Hassan  Pasha  hates  me,"  he  had  said  to 
Henry  Harris,  as  they  came  up  from  dinner,  "  as  if  I  were  a 
cobra,  a  deadly  viper.  Do  you  know  why  ?  " 

"  The  Pasha  is  a  devout  Mohammedan,  and  he  is  aware," 
the  other  replied,  "  that  you  have  become  a  Christian.  And 
yet  one  would  suppose  he  would  be  glad  of  anything  which 
strikes  at  the  worship  of  idols." 

"  It  is  deeper  than  that.  I  will  explain  to  you  some  day. 
But  I  do  not  hate  him,"  the  Brahmin  said.  "Ah,  no  !  if  he 
were  the  deadliest  of  reptiles  I  would  seek  so  much  the 
more  eagerly — you  have  heard  of  snake-charmers  ?  —  to 
charm  him.  I  will  be  glad  to  tell  you  about  it.  Nothing  is 
more  interesting.  Not  now." 

But  that  was  said  just  before.  Now  the  ladies  and  many 
of  the  gentlemen  had  grouped  themselves  in  the  Earl's 
drawing-room  about  the  Hindoo.  The  fact  that  the  Queen 
of  England  was  in  the  act  of  becoming  Empress  of  India 
added  to  the  interest  in  him.  Earl  Dorrington  had  joined 
the  group.  Lord  Conyngham  had  contrived  by  this  time 
to  draw  Mary  Harris  from  the  Pasha,  and,  by  a  singu- 


COSMOPOLITAN  COMPANY.  99 

lar  coincidence,  her  brother  was  engaged  in  conversation 
with  Lady  Blanche  at  the  portfolio  of  engravings  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  room.  George  Harris  was  not  present, 
having  been  suddenly  called  back  to  Russia  upon  business. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  lord,  but  I  can  not  enter  now  into  the 
question  of  Christianity  in  my  land,"  Ishra  Dhass  was  heard 
to  say  to  Earl  Dorrington.  "  We  accept  it  as  the  power 
which  is  to  revolutionize  India.  But  our  hope  is  more  daring, 
your  lordship  ;  we  intend  to  revolutionize  England  also,  and 
the  world,"  and,  notwithstanding  the  dignified  aspect  of  the 
Tory  Earl,  the  Hindoo  went  on  : 

"  I  am  not  speaking  now  of  the  throne,  nor  of  the  nobil 
ity,  my  lord  ;  although  monarch,  noble,  army,  universities, 
press,  all  England,  all  Europe,  and  America  too,  must  utterly 
change  as  the  result.  It  is  upon  your  idea  of  Christianity 
that  the  whole  modern  civilization  rests.  Roman,  Greek, 
Protestant,  and  all  the  sects  of  Protestantism,  it  is  that 
which  sustains  and  shapes  everything.  Communism,  Nihil 
ism,  Irish  grievance,  American  corruption,  Indian  misrule, 
Austrian  weakness,  German  arrogance,  French  uncertainty, 
Russian  despotism — all  is  the  result  of  your  European  mis 
conception  of  Christianity.  That  is  the  reason  you  fail  in 
regard  to  Turkey,  to  India.  Ah,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  you 
are  so  terribly  mistaken  !  The  whole  planet  is  a  bulb  which 
breaks  into  bloom  here  in  Paris.  '  How  grand  ! '  we  say, 
'how  beautiful!'  'how  glorious!'  "We  are  advancing  to 
sublime  perfection  !  And  you  are  so  highly  cultivated,  so 
learned,  educated  ;  you  are,  ladies,  the  wisest  and  most  beau 
tiful  ;  you,  gentlemen,  are  the  most  cultured  and  masterful 
the  world  has  ever  known,  and  yet — " 

The  voice  of  the  Hindoo  had  become  low  and  persuasive  ; 
he  bowed  deferentially  to  the  brilliant  circle  about  him. 
Then  his  eye  kindled,  his  dark  cheek  took  the  crimson  of  the 
pomegranate.  "  Strong  and  beautiful  as  you  are,"  he  pro 
ceeded,  "  ah,  heavens  !  how  ignorant  you  are  !  Asia  has 
taught  you  everything  you  know  of  God,  everything.  You 
have  perverted  it  all.  Asia,"  and  the  voice  of  the  orator 


100  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

thrilled  those  present  as  with  a  force  of  prophecy,  "Asia 
must  destroy  your  crystallized  Christianity,  and  teach  it  to 
you  over  again.  Your  fossilized  Christianity — ah-h-h-h  !  it 
is  become  false,  false,  false!  Eighteen  centuries  have  pol 
luted  it !  "  The  horror  of  his  face,  the  gesture  of  his  hand, 
were  very  striking. 

"It  is  not,"  he  added,  as  if  in  alarm,  "of  the  Christ 
that  I  speak.  To  thee,  O  Son  of  God,  salaam,  salaam ! " 
and  the  Hindoo  bowed  his  head  in  reverence  as  before  a 
visible  presence.  "  I  will  not  speak  of  it  now.  Is  not  this 
a  dinner  party  ?  I  forgot  myself,"  he  added.  "  At  some 
other  time  gladly,  not  now.  But  your  established  Chris 
tianity,  my  lord,  believe  me,  it  must  go."  And  the  merry 
audacity  returned  to  the  Hindoo's  face  as  he  bowed  to  Earl 
Dorrington. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

MATRONLY    SUGGESTION. 

MARGARET  HARRIS  was  a  good  woman  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  word.  She  had  grown  with  the  growth  of  her  own 
country,  and  strengthened  with  the  strength  of  her  ex 
perience  in  other  countries.  She  had  walked  the  thorny 
paths  of  poverty  and  the  shining  avenues  of  fortune  with 
her  husband,  and  she  could  sympathize  with  the  poor  and 
make  allowance  for  the  rich.  It  was  her  husband's  greatest 
pleasure  to  call  about  him,  when  he  was  at  his  own  home, 
and  gave  his  brilliant  receptions,  the  companions  of  his  early 
life  ;  and  Margaret  was  never  more  graceful  and  sincere 
than  when  she  was  receiving  their  wives  and  daughters. 
Both  seemed  to  understand  the  real  uses  of  wealth,  and 
also  to  fear  and  shun  its  abuses.  She  was  as  sensitive  as 
her  husband  on  this  subject.  In  their  eyes  there  was  little 
difference  between  the  insufferable  arrogance  of  the  aristo 
crat  and  the  vulgar  display  of  the  parvenu  ;  and  if  there 


MATRONLY  SUGGESTION.  101 

was  any  mercy  for  either  of  these  extremes,  they  withheld  it 
from  the  first,  because  he  ought  to  have  known  better.  Mar 
garet  never  concealed  her  contempt  for  the  pretentious  in 
solence  of  some  of  the  so-called  better  classes  who  flaunted 
their  inherited  social  superiority,  and  like  her  husband, 
George  Harris,  she  frequently  showed  it.  But  nothing  could 
describe  her  grief  when  she  met  beautiful  American  girls 
who  seemed  to  recollect  nothing  but  their  accidental  good 
fortune.  Enriched  by  the  sudden  luck  of  their  fathers,  they 
made  the  tour  of  Europe  only  for  enjoyment,  and  rarely  for 
instruction.  What  a  gentle  providence  she  was  to  such  girls, 
as  she  kindly  assumed  the  right  to  admonish  and  advise 
them  !  The  handsome  matron,  surrounded  by  these  bright 
Americans,  talked  to  them  like  a  modern  and  a  better  Zeno- 
bia,  and  they  regarded  her  with  mingled  love  and  reverence. 
Mary  Harris,  her  daughter,  sat  with  her  mother,  and  seemed 
the  living  model  of  her  frequent  familiar  colloquies.  Mar 
garet  would  say  : 

"  We  have  such  lovely  girls  in  America  that  I  want  them 
to  be  as  perfect  in  mind  and  manners  as  they  are  in  person, 
and,  oh  !  if  they  only  knew  how  they  make  me  suffer  some 
times  in  society,  I  am  sure  they  would  be  more  guarded.  I 
can  read  these  foreigners  when  our  girls  forget  themselves. 
It  is  so  easy  to  acquire  good  style.  I  am  told  that  behavior 
is  born  in  most  people.  I  deny  it.  I  believe  that  we  are  all 
not  only  improved  by  contact  and  imitation,  but  that  we  are 
made  better  and  purer.  The  best  of  us  are  the  merest  copy 
ists.  We  are  all  influenced  by  our  examples.  We  all  study 
those  who  are  set  over  us.  How  important,  then,  that  we 
should  have  the  best  to  follow  and  the  purest  to  obey  !  I 
pity  from  my  soul  a  rich  girl,  American  or  European,  with 
no  mother  to  guide  and  teach  her.  Mere  wealth  without 
brains  is  a  curse,  especially  to  a  woman.  I  have  seen  it  turn 
men  into  brutes  and  tyrants,  into  infidels  and  blasphemers. 
I  could  name  many  in  England,  France,  and  America  that 
have  used  their  money  as  savages  have  used  their  captives, 
only  to  gratify  their  own  passions,  to  humiliate  their  in- 


102  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

feriors,  to  laugh  at  benevolence,  to  scorn  all  public  benefac 
tions,  and  to  die  at  last  despised  by  their  own  contempora 
ries,  and  punished  by  a  profligate,  ignorant,  and  spendthrift 
posterity." 

"  But,  dear  Mrs.  Harris,"  said  one  of  the  American  girls, 
"  you  told  us  the  other  day  that  wealth  was  a  great  advan 
tage,  honorably  acquired  and  properly  used,  and  I  remember 
how  you  pitied  the  lot  of  young  women  at  home  or  abroad 
without  money."  It  was  Ellen  Ellsworth  who  spoke.  She 
was  a  reigning  New  England  beauty,  and  one  of  the  wealthi 
est  of  the  American  colony. 

"  I  am  glad,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Harris,  "  that  you  remem 
ber  that  interview,  because  you  can  yourself  be  a  splendid 
example,  if  you  will,  of  what  I  meant  to  teach  ;  and  I 
should  be  an  impostor  if  I  attempted  to  decry  honorable 
wealth.  My  object  was  to  induce  our  rich  girls  to  add  to 
their  material  gifts  the  graces  of  a  Christian  life  and  the 
culture  of  a  high  intelligence.  No  young  woman,  with  or 
without  money,  who  studies  these  counsels  will  ever  lack  for 
happiness,  whether  married  or  single.  That,  the  result  of  a 
long  experience,  is  my  deliberate  judgment." 

"We  have  had  quite  a  number  of  marriages  between 
Americans  and  English,  Mrs.  Harris,"  said  Ellen,  as  if  to 
change  the  subject  and  ask  a  question. 

"  Yes,"  said  Margaret  Harris,  and  her  cheeks  glowed  as 
she  looked  at  her  daughter  Mary  ;  "  but  how  few  have  ended 
well !  That  remark  of  yours,  Ellen,  starts  a  problem.  Is 
it  not  true  that  few  English  or  French  come  over  to  us  for 
wives  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  our  girls  come  to  Europe,  and 
get  foreign  partners  here  ?  Do  you  ever  reflect  how  rarely 
American  men  marry  foreign  women  ?  " 

As  the  stately  Margaret  spoke,  it  was  interesting  to  study 
the  group  that  listened  to  her.  There  were  four,  besides  her 
daughter,  and  most  of  them  the  children  of  rich  Americans, 
and  it  was  manifest  that  her  conversation  impressed  them. 
A  dark  Southern  girl,  Virginia  Josselyn,  who  seemed  to  be  a 
great  favorite  in  the  Harris  family,  said  : 


A  DESCENT.  103 

"  I  think  that  most  of  the  American  girls  who  visit  Europe 
return  to  their  homes  the  better  for  their  experience,  and 
more  than  ever  proud  of  their  country  ;  and,  dear  Aunt  Mar 
garet,  I  can  answer  for  myself  that  I  see  many  things  in 
America  with  different  eyes  after  my  foreign  travels.  I  am 
taught  both  ways." 

"My  darling,  I  know  it  of  you,  as  I  know  it  of  my 
self.  When  I  accompanied  my  husband  to  St.  Petersburg, 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  I  was  very  '  green ' 
and  ignorant.  You  see,  we  were  both  poor  young  people, 
George  and  I,  and  knew  nothing  of  society  and  style.  He 
had  a  busy,  wearing  life,  and  I  had,  for  some  time,  little  to 
do  but  to  look,  listen,  and  learn  ;  I  sometimes  shudder  as  I 
recollect  my  loud  voice  and  painful  ignorance  ;  and  now  that 
I  see  myself  in  others,  it  makes  me  nervous  when  I  find  my 
own  imperfections  repeated  in  them.  I  know  how  you  have 
profited  by  your  advantages,  all  of  you,  my  children  ;  and  if 
I  am  sometimes  a  little  too  frank,  you  must  charge  it  to  my 
love  for  you  and  your  parents." 

And  now  the  servant  entered,  and  they  followed  their 
Zenobia  to  lunch. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    DESCENT. 

ONE  afternoon  Henry  Harris  entered  an  old  and  tumble 
down  house  in  a  part  of  Paris  the  most  in  need  of,  and  yet 
the  farthest  removed  from,  the  improvements  of  M.  Hauss- 
mann.  The  streets  were  narrow  and  dirty  ;  the  courts  and 
doorways  swarmed  with  ragged  children  who,  thin  and  pal 
lid  as  they  were,  quarreled  and  fought,  or  laughed  and  chat 
tered  among  themselves,  as  much  at  home  as  if  in  palace 
yards  or  country  fields  instead.  Young  Harris  was  accom 
panied  by  Lord  Conyngham,  and  two  men,  of  the  laboring 
classes  apparently,  followed  them  at  a  little  distance.  The 


104:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

four  ascended  flight  after  flight  of  rickety  steps,  "having  to 
feel  their  way  at  times  along  the  greasy  and  dilapidated 
walls.  Doors  were  open  on  the  right  hand  and  the  left,  and 
they  could  not  help  catching  sight  as  they  went  of  draggled 
women  and  frowzy-headed  men,  sleeping,  gambling,  eating, 
talking,  cooking,  or  washing  their  clothes.  Once  or  twice 
they  had  to  step  over  a  man  lying  drunk  or  asleep  in  the 
passage-way,  and  as  they  reached  the  highest  landing  they 
heard  loud  weeping  in  a  miserable  apartment.  Glancing  in 
as  they  passed,  they  saw  the  cold  and  pinched  face  of  a  little 
girl  lying,  with  a  woman  sobbing  over  her,  upon  the  excuse 
for  a  bed.  For  such  a  poor  little  body  there  seemed  to  be, 
to  their  rapid  glance,  a  singular  abundance  of  golden  hair, 
and  Henry  Harris,  who  had  taken  off  his  hat,  said  as  he  re 
placed  it  and  went  on  :  •'" 

"  I  am  glad  of  it." 

"  Glad  of  what  ?  "  his  companion  asked. 

"  Glad  it  is  dead." 

As  it  was  said,  the  friends  entered  a  door  which  Henry 
Harris  unlocked,  and  were  followed  by  the  laboring  men. 
It  was  a  wretched  place,  dimly  lighted  from  the  roof,  the 
dirty  walls  scrawled  over  with  obscene  designs,  and  in  op 
posite  corners  were  beds  ;  a  table,  an  old  chest,  and  a  chair 
or  two  completed  the  misery  of  the  scene.  On  one  side  of 
the  room  a  blackened  door  opened  into  an  apartment  yet 
smaller  and  darker. 

"  Go  in  there,"  Henry  Harris  said  to  the  men  who  had 
followed  them,  "  and  we  will  make  the  change  as  soon  as 
possible.  Make  haste." 

"  My  lord,"  said  one  of  the  two,  "  you  must  hallow  me 
to  protest.  Hif  your  father,  the  Hearl — " 

"  That  will  do,  Judkins,"  Lord  Conyngham  interrupted 
him.  "  Hold  your  tongue.  Go  ! "  And  the  valet  followed 
his  companion,  who  was  the  servant  of  Henry  Han-is,  into 
the  dismal  closet. 

"  My  man  Toffski  is  a  moujik  whom  I  picked  up  in  Rus 
sia  years  ago,"  the  American  said.  "  "We  have  had  some 


A  DESCENT.  105 

queer  adventures  together,  and  he  has  a  power  of  holding 
his  face  silent  as  well  as  his  tongue  beyond  anything  I  ever 
knew  of  except  in  the  figure-head  of  a  ship.  Now,  as  soon 
as  we  can." 

In  half  an  hour  the  gentlemen  had  exchanged  clothing 
with  their  servants,  who,  transformed  apparently  into  gen 
tlemen,  but  with  their  hats  down  over  their  eyes,  had  re 
ceived  many  final  charges,  and  departed. 

"  As  is  the  case  of  almost  everybody,"  Henry  Harris  said, 
"  we  have  been  under  the  eyes  of  the  police  since  we  entered 
Paris.  Since  we  are  neither  pickpockets  nor  burglars,  we 
have  not  been  so  closely  watched,  however,  but  that  our 
men  will  serve  as  our  substitutes,  as  they  go  home,  at  least. 
We  are,  you  know,  nothing  but  common  laborers,  not  worth 
the  watching." 

The  transformation  was  wonderful,  From  head  to  foot, 
cap,  blouse,  heavy  shoes,  coarse  stockings,  and  all,  the  friends 
seemed  to  be  but  units  of  the  masses  of  ouvriers  they  were 
soon  to  mingle  with,  mere  drops  of  a  turbid  current. 

"  Now,  my  lord,"  the  American  said,  "  we  .have  already 
considered  our  plans  long  and,  I  hope,  thoroughly.  You  go 
with  me  of  your  own  request.  It  will  be  a  severe  trial.  To 
begin  with,  your  name  is  Tom  Perkins.  Well,  Tom,  how 
goes  it?" 

The  young  nobleman  shrank  almost  as  from  an  insult, 
and  then  laughed.  "  It  is  only  a  new  way  of  sowing  wild 
oats,"  he  said.  "  We  are  off  on  a  lark,  that  is  all.  Oh,  I'm 
all  right,  Jack  !  It  is  Jack,  isn't  it  ?  Jack  Peters  ?  The 
fact  is,  I  have  lived  exclusively  upon  the  mere  surface  of 
things  all  my  life.  Of  course,"  he  added,  seriously,  "  I  have 
always  known  that  there  were  depths  beneath  me.  God 
knows  I  have  seen  too  much  of  the  poverty  and  crime  of 
London,  seen  it  from  my  club  windows,  or  from  my  cab, 
not  to  know  that.  As  you  have  said,  however,  I  really  know 
almost  as  little  of  the  lives  of  the  millions  under  me  as  if 
they  were  living  in  Africa  instead.  I  can  read  about  them, 
have  read  about  them,  but  that  is  not  like  seeing  for  myself. 


106  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

Lady  Blanche  is  always  urging  me  to  fit  myself  to  take  as 
active  a  part  as  possible  in  Parliament.  Well,  I  am  going 
into  training.  Oxford  and  good  society  have  done  what 
they  can.  I  will  try  the  depths  a  little.  Call  me  Tom  or 
anything.  When  a  man  makes  a  dive  into  deep  waters  he 
must  strip,  you  know." 

The  American  looked  at  his  friend  with  pleasure.  The 
young  nobleman  had  laid  aside,  with  his  ordinary  clothing, 
his  dandyism  of  manner,  also  his  drawl  and  unconscious  af 
fectation.  If  his  haughty  bearing  had  disappeared  for  the 
moment,  his  manliness  was  the  more  evident. 

"  If  you  had  joined  me  on  a  hunting  excursion  in  Africa 
or  America,  you  would  have  had  to  dress  roughly  and  fare 
hardly,"  young  Harris  suggested. 

"  Certainly.  And  I  can  stand  more  than  you  imagine  ; 
can  box  as  well  as  fence,  can  run  as  well  as  dance.  We  will 
get  along,"  the  false  Tom  Perkins  said,  with  a  jaunty  air. 
"  As  to  my  slang,  I  have  tried  it  in  chaffing  matches-  among 
the  barges  up  and  down  the  Thames,  and  it  is  all  that  can 
be  desired." 

"  Well,  I  think  we  understand  each  other,"  Jack  Peters 
remarked.  "I  wish  we  could  stoop  a  little  more  as  we 
walked,  but  we  would  be  sure  to  forget  to  do  so,  and  we 
had  better  be  natural  as  to  that.  Remember  that  we  are 
engineers  out  of  work.  I  am  one,  you  know.  When  we 
visit  Russia  I  intend  to  run  a  locomotive,  and  you  are  my 
stoker,  you  observe.  Oh,  we  are  in  for  it !  " 

The  eyes  of  both  sparkled.  They  were  young,  in  high 
spirits,  a  little  tired  of  society,  not  without  ambition,  and 
with  that  superfluity  of  energy  which  is  wasted,  in  other 
cases,  in  gambling  hells  and  worse  places.  Moreover,  they 
were  thoroughly  satisfied  that  the  game  was  worth  the  pur 
suit.  Most  of  all,  each  aimed  in  his  secret  soul  at  winning  in 
the  end  the  hearty  admiration  and  astonished  approval  of  the 
woman  he  loved  best. 

"  Even  yet  I  do  not  fully  understand  Communism,  day 
laborer  as  I  am,"  Jack  Peters  observed.  "  It  is  increasing, 


A  DESCENT.  107 

under  one  name  and  another,  in  France,  England,  Russia. 
What  I  hate  worst  is  that  it  is  beginning  to  threaten  even 
America.  Whatever  it  is,  Commune,  Nihilism,  Socialism, 
International,  Descamisados,  Society  of  the  Russian  Red 
Cock,  or  what  not,  I  am  determined  to  study  it  as  thoroughly 
as  I  have  ever  done  a  bit  of  machinery.  I  have  often  crawled 
through  boilers,  hunting  for  the  weak  places,  and  I  am  very 
curious  to  understand  these  societies,  these  rotten  places  of 
our  social  system,  which  threaten  to  destroy  civilization  by 
their  explosion.  But  you  will  have  to  swear  off  from  soap, 
will  have  to  drink  execrable  beer,  to  smoke  some  detestable 
tobacco,"  he  suddenly  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  can  stand  it  if  you  can,"  the  other  laughed  ;  "  my 
stomach  is  as  strong  as  my  arms.  Late  dinners  have  qualified 
me  for  everything.  Go  ahead." 

"  This  room  is  our  abode  whenever  we  are  actually  going 
— behind  the  Falls,  we  would  say  of  Niagara  ;  through  the 
sewers,  they  would  style  it  here  in  Paris,"  Jack  Peters  add 
ed.  "  You  have  a  key,  so  have  I.  There  are  arms  hidden 
under  the  loose  plank  in  the  other  room.  More  useful  still, 
we  have  gold  in  our  belts,  which  is  the  best  ammunition  on 
earth.  We  will  make  our  first  essay  to-night.  Whenever 
you  think  fit  you  can  give  it  up.  And  now — "  and  the 
American  lifted  his  hat  to  the  other  respectfully,  and  added, 
"  Good-by,  my  lord." 

"  I  bid  you  good-by,  Mr.  Harris,"  the  nobleman  said  as 
gravely,  and  lifting -the  coarse  hat  upon  his  own  head  by  way 
of  farewell. 

"  Why,  how  are  you,  Jack  Peters  ?  "  the  nobleman  added 
in  the  next  breath,  and  with  a  total  change  of  manner. 

"  Bless  me,  but  it  is  Tom  Perkins  ! "  exclaimed  the  other, 
grasping  the  offered  hand  with  rude  cordiality,  and  they 
laughed  and  left  the  room  together. 

Some  hours  after,  Lady  Blanche  was  riding  in  her  car 
riage  accompanied  by  Mary  Harris.  A  fete  was  going  on,  the 
streets  were  crowded  ;  their  horses  were  halted  for  quite  a 
time  by  the  press  as  they  passed  the  ruins  of  the  Tuileries. 


108  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Do  you  see  him  ?  the  wretch  ! "  Lady  Blanche  said  to 
her  friend  in  the  heat  of  the  crush. 

Mary  Harris  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated.  Two 
coarsely  dressed  workmen,  their  caps  over  their  eyes,  were 
loitering  near  by,  and  one  of  them  had  the  impudence  to 
lift  his  hand  to  his  hat  as  he  caught  the  eye  of  the  haughty 
Englishwoman. 

"  I  dare  say  they  are  some  of  the  miserable  creatures 
that  destroyed  this  very  building,"  she  said,  indignantly,  as 
they  drove  on  at  last.  "  My  brother  would  have  been  tempt 
ed,  had  he  been  with  me,  to  knock  him  down." 

"  Ah,  Tom,  you  forgot  yourself  that  time,"  the  other 
workman  said  to  his  friend. 

"That  is  a  fact.  Did  you  see  how  angry  she  looked? 
Anyway,"  the  insolent  Communist  added,  "they  did  not 
know  us." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
"THE  HAMMER  AN'  DOWN  wi'  'EM." 

THERE  are  many  institutions  in  London  which  illustrate 
the  adage  that  "birds  of  a  feather  flock  together."  The 
magnificent  club-houses  have  each  its  own  peculiarity  of 
members,  army,  navy,  Tory,  Whigs,  reform,  radical,  literary, 
and  the  like.  So,  on  a  greatly  reduced  scale,  of  the  innu 
merable  hostelries.  Some  are  used  almost  exclusively  by 
men  connected  with  the  press,  others  by  traveling  salesmen, 
"  bagmen,"  as  they  are  called,  some  by  coachmen,  others  by 
valets.  At  some  only  cabmen  are  to  be  found,  in  others 
only  costermongers  would  feel  at  home.  Just  as  there  are 
hospitals  for  those  diseased  only  of  the  eye  or  the  ear,  the 
nerves  or  the  lungs,  a  refuge  for  those  affected  in  some  one 
way,  and  for  such  alone,  so  are  there  certain  pothouses  fre 
quented  exclusively  by  definite  classes  of  the  otherwise  un 
fortunate. 


"THE  HAMMER  AN1  DOWN  WF  'EM."         109 

In  one  of  the  worst  streets  of  London  there  is,  for  in 
stance,  an  ale-house  having  as  its  sign  a  naked  and  muscu 
lar  arm  grasping  a  hammer,  with  the  legend  beneath,  "  Down 
wi'  'em."  This  place,  familiarly  known  as  "  The  hammer 
an'  down  wi'  'em,"  is  the  resort  especially  of  workmen  out  of 
work,  generally  tailors  and  cobblers.  The  room  opening 
upon  the  street  is  but  a  narrow  entrance,  with  the  inevitable 
bar  upon  one  side,  plentifully  supplied  with  liquors,  and  a 
barmaid  rosy  enough  and  portly  enough  to  be  cut  up  into 
half  a  dozen  ordinary  damsels.  Passing  through  this,  you 
enter  into  a  large  room,  having  a  low  ceiling  of  blackened 
beams,  the  floor  sanded  and  set  out  with  small  deal  tables 
and  chairs,  the  walls  garnished  with  pictures  of  martyrs, 
such  as  Robert  Blum,  Robespierre,  Blanqui,  Cobbett,  Tom 
Paine,  and — with  an  astonished  look  at  finding  himself  in 
such  company — George  Washington.  At  one  end  is  a  raised 
platform,  upon  which  any  one  can  sing,  play  on  any  instru 
ment,  dance,  or  make  a  speech,  subject,  however,  to  the  ap 
proval  of  the  nightly  audience,  an  approval  which  had  a 
singular  facility  in  turning  into  clamorous  displeasure  if 
need  be. 

One  foggy  evening  this  room  was  crowded  with  guests, 
every  man  having  his  beer  or  gin  before  him.  Among  the 
mugs  and  pipes  were  dingy  and  beer-stained  copies  of  Rey- 
nolds's  "  Weekly  Newspaper  "  and  other  radical  sheets,  which 
— bitter  as  their  bitterest  beer,  strong  as  their  strongest  to 
bacco,  intoxicating  as  their  worst  gin — circulate  by  the  half- 
million  copies  among  the  lower  classes  of  England.  At  a 
table,  and  playing  checkers,  sat  two  workmen,  who  had 
dropped  in  on  several  nights  before,  and  who  had  become 
known  to  the  barmaid  as  Jack  Peters  and  Tom  Perkins. 
They  were  near  the  platform,  and  one  of  them  kept  in  his 
mouth  a  short  clay  pipe,  a  mug  of  ale  at  his  elbow.  They 
had  listened  to  a  good  deal  of  noisy  discussion  on  previous 
occasions,  but  the  interest  centered  to-night  upon  a  little 
bald-headed  cobbler,  who  looked  as  if  he  had  been  effectually 
weaned  from  soap  and  the  breast  at  the  same  date.  He  had 


HO  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

no  coat,  his  dirty  sleeves  were  rolled  up  at  the  elbow  ;  his 
eyes,  red,  small,  and  watery,  twinkled  through  brass  specta 
cles.  The  two  new-comers  had  heard  frequent  and  hearty 
encomiums  upon  a  certain  "  OF  St'istics,"  who  had  been  un 
avoidably  absent  before,  owing  to  a  prolonged  "  drunk." 
This  was  the  man.  His  money,  and  with  it  his  liquor,  had 
given  out  at  last,  and  he  was  now  welcomed  back  with  en 
thusiasm.  Hardly  a  man  present  but  urged  upon  him  a  share 
of  his  ale  or  tobacco.  Occasionally  there  had  been  cries  of 
"  OF  St'istics  !  OF  St'istics  ! "  but  the  clamor  became  so 
unanimous  at  last,  knuckles,  mugs  banged  upon  the  tables, 
and  heavy  feet  swelling  the  noise  with  stamping,  that  the 
cobbler  arose  at  his  table,  and  remarked  with  modest  self- 
depreciation  : 

"  Much  obleeged  ;  same  to  you.  Arter  my  leetle  attack 
of — of  gout — "  But  his  piping  voice  was  drowned  in  laugh 
ter,  which  gave  place  to  cries  of  "  Take  the  platform,  St'is 
tics  !  take  the  platform,  oF  feller  ! "  and  he  was  escorted 
thither  with  an  affectation  of  airy  politeness  by  a  dilapidated 
tailor. 

"I  have  just  arose,"  the  cobbler  began,  "from  a  pro 
longed  illness,"  and  he  indulged  in  the  delicate  cough  of  an 
invalid  ;  "  but  I  will  do  my  best.  You  see  I  sticks  sich 
items  as  I  can  lay  my  hands  on  against  the  wall  before  me 
as  I  works  by  a  bit  o'  wax,  and  I  hammers  at  my  last  an' 
larns,  sews  an'  larns,  pegs  an'  larns.  It's  a  gift,  an'  I'll  share 
it.  What'll  you  have  to-night  ?  " 

There  were  various  demands  of  "  Church  !  "  "  Army  ! " 
"Ships!"  "Bishops!"  "R'yal  family!"  but  the  calls  for 
"  Aristocracy  !  "  finally  prevailed. 

"  Very  good  ;  listen,"  and,  closing  his  eyes,  the  public 
favorite  repeated  in  a  rapid,  sing-song  manner  what  he  had 
learned  by  rote.  "  There  is,  in  this  here  England  o'  theirs, 
not  ours,  five  hundred  an'  twenty-five  nobles.  That  is, 
twenty-eight  dukes,  thirty-three  marquises,  one  hundred  and 
ninety-four  earls,  fifty-two  viscounts,  two  hundred  and  eigh 
teen  barons.  These  robbers  own  an  average  of  twenty-nine 


"THE  HAMMER  AN'  DOWN  WP   >EM»          HI 

thousing  one  hundred  an'  forty-eight  acres  each,  an'  every 
highwayman  of  'em  plunders  us  on  an  average  of  twenty- 
nine  thousing  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  each."  There  was 
a  relish,  almost  as  of  savory  food,  in  the  mere  mention  of  so 
much  money  on  the  part  of  speaker  and  hearer.  The  cob 
bler  smacked  his  lips  as  he  added,  "Anything  more  you 
want  to  know  ?  "  And  the  oracle  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
around  in  triumph. 

".  Yes,  give  us  a  bishop  or  two,"  was  the  cry. 

"  Very  well."  The  speaker  closed  his  eyes  and  chanted 
from  memory  :  "  The  pay  of  the  Archbishops  of  York  an' 
Canterbury,  with  the  Bishops  of  London  an'  Durham,  is 
forty-four  thousing  four  hundred  an'  forty-four  pound.  Bish 
op  of  Ely  has  seving  thousing  pound  a  year  ;  so  has  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester.  Eight  more  bishops  get  five  thousing 
a  year  each  ;  an'  eight  smaller  ones  get  over  four  thousing 
pounds.  One  hundred  and  twenty-eight  canons  in  the  ca 
thedrals  get  one  thousing  a  year.  Any  more  questions  ?  " 
And  the  speaker  waited,  with  his  eyes  closed  behind  his  owl 
ish  glasses. 

"  Tell  us  about  the  bigwigs,"  was  the  cry. 

"  Very  good,"  the  oracle  replied.  "  The  Judges  of  Ap 
peals  gets  from  five  to  six  thousing  pounds  each  every 
year,"  chewing  the  sums  as  if  they  were  so  much  bacon  or 
tobacco.  "  The  Master  of  the  Rolls  has  six  tKousing  ;  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  eleving  thousing  pound  every  year ;  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice  gets  eight  thousing  ;  the  Members  of  the 
Privy  Council,  five  thousing  each  ;  the  Vice-Chancellors  the 
same  ;  also  the  puisne  judges,  whatever  that  is,  an'  every 
circuit  judge  the  same.  Any  more  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  the  R'yal  Family,"  was  the  cry. 

"  Very  good.  An'  there  is  a  lot  of  'em  hangin'  on  to  'em. 
Stewards  treasurers  comptrollers,"  the  speaker  rattled  on, 
without  pause  of  punctuation  or  taking  breath,  "  chamber 
lains  vice-chamberlains  lords  in  waiting  gentlemen-at-arms 
yeomen  masters  of  the  horse  masters  of  the  hounds  equerries 
mistresses  of  the  robes  ladies  of  the  bed-chamber  maids  of 


112  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

honor  clerks  of  the  robes  deans  physicians  ordinary  and  ex 
traordinary  sergeant  surgeons  dentists  chemists  an'  every 
man  an'  woman  of  'em  is  paid  from  one  up  to  two  thousing 
pound  a  year  !  "  And  there  the  breath  of  the  speaker  gave 
out.  He  rolled  out  the  amounts  with  gusto,  his  hearers  hav 
ing  evidently  a  delight  in  the  naming  even  of  so  much 
money,  as  if  in  the  glitter  and  rattle  of  that  many  shillings, 
crowns,  and  sovereigns  poured  out  before  them. 

"  But  the  princes  ?  the  princes  ? "  vociferated  the  de 
lighted  crowd  ;  and  the  cobbler,  whose  memory  was  really 
as  accurate  as  it  was  wonderful,  went  on  with  rapid,  monot 
onous  chant :  "  Duchess  of  York  has  five  thousing  pound  ; 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  twelve  thousing  ;  Duchess  of  Mecklen- 
burg-Strelitz,  three  thousing ;  Duchess  of  Cambridge,  six 
thousing ;  Prince  Leopold,  fifteen  thousing  ;  Duke  of  Con- 
naught,  twenty  thousing ;  Princess  Louise,  six  thousing ; 
Duke  of  Edinburgh,  twenty-five  thousing ;  Princess  Alice, 
six  thousing  ;  Crown  Princess  of  Germany,  eight  thousing  ; 
Princess  of  Wales,  ten  thousing  ;  Prince  of  Wales,  one  hun 
dred  an'  nine  thousing  !  The  Queen,"  and  here  the  speaker 
drew  in  a  deep  breath,  and  the  audience  held  mug  and  pipe 
suspended  to  hear,  "the  Queen,  she  gets  four — hundred — 
an' — sixty — thousing — pound  a  year  !  " 

The  words  were  slowly  drawn  out,  and  delivered  with 
the  utmost  force.  It  was  his  oratorical  climax,  and  he  left 
the  platform.  There  was  a  deep  and  ominous  silence.  Tom 
Perkins  and  Jack  Peters  began  a  new  game  of  checkers, 
conscious  of  that  something  about  them  which  makes  the  air 
heavy  as  with  thunder  slowly  gathering  toward  a  tempest. 

"  Sots,  knaves,  fools  !  bah  ! "  Tom  Perkins  said,  under 
his  breath,  to  his  companion.  But  the  American  did  not  re 
ply,  except  with  a  warning  look.  "Who  has  made  them 
such  ? "  he  was  asking  of  himself.  The  audience  was  com 
posed  of  men,  not  one  of  whom  but  would  have  fought  for 
England  in  battle  with  undying  pluck.  The  visitor  glanced 
over  the  crowd.  Through  the  tobacco-smoke  the  heads  of 
the  men  loomed  sullen  and  threatening  ;  they  were  chained 


"THE  HAMMER  AN'  DOWN  WP  'EM."          113 

in,  but  they  were  mastiffs,  manacled  by  their  own  ignorance 
and  sensual  indulgence,  wreaking  their  vengeance  often  upon 
wife  and  child  in  horrible  brutalities. 

"-But  whose  business  has  it  been  to  educate  them  ?  "  the 
American  demanded  of  himself.  "  There  is  no  better  materi 
al  on  earth.  It  is  of  such  stuff  that  America  has  been  large 
ly  made.  Whose  duty  is  it  to  mold  it  into  manhood  ?  Can 
a  man  lift  himself  into  the  air  by  a  grip  upon  his  own  waist 
band  ?  Can  a  man  regenerate  himself  by  his  own 'hand? 
My  father  made  himself  what  he  is,"  he  added  ;  "  my  mother 
made  herself  what  she  is  ;  but  they  had  the  help  toward  it  of 
the  American  church,  school,  press,  ballot.  Thank  God  that 
the  poorest  in  England,  the  most  depraved  in  America  too, 
are  being  alike  swept  toward 

'  The  one  far-off  divine  event 
To  which  the  whole  creation  moves.'  " 

"  By  George  !  this  thing  ain't  goin'  to  last  always,"  a 
shock-headed  man  took  his  pipe,  at  length,  from  his  lips  to 
remark,  in  a  voice  heard  by  all,  through  the  silence. 

"  Take  the  platform,  Harry  !  "  There  was  new  enthu 
siasm  ;  and,  in  answer  to  the  demand,  the  man  laid  down 
mug  and  pipe  and  mounted  the  low  stage. 

"  I  hain't  got  no  speech  to  make  to-night,"  he  said,  "  but 
I'm  cur'us  to  find  what  you  men  are  thinkin'  about.  Now  I 
want  to  know  what  every  man  in  this  room  believes  is  to 
mend  our  troubles.  Speak  up.  This  is  what  is  called  a  free 
country.  As  you  all  know,  I'm  a  Cheap  Jack,  an'  I'll  mark 
you  off  as  you  speak.  This  country  is  goin',  goin',  goin'  ! 
Who  names  a  cure  for  it  ?  "  He  repeated  it,  as  if  in  his  cart 
and  auctioneering  off  his  wares.  The  bids  came  slowly,  now 
from  this  corner  of  the  room,  and  then  from  that. 

"  Abolition  of  House  of  Lords  ?  Very  good.  Disestab 
lishment  of  the  Church  ?  Certainly.  Educating  the  masses  ? 
Perhaps  so.  Australia  ?  Thank  you.  Yes.  Peabody  lodg- 
ing-hoiises  ?  Hah  !  Trades-unions  ?  Humph  !  Coopera 
tive  stores  ?  Nonsense  !  Down  with  the  police  ?  Of  course. 


THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

Abolish  army  and  navy  ?  Yes.  Any  other  gentleman  a  bid 
to  make  for  this  rotten,  old,  tumble-down,  tyrannical  Gov 
ernment  of  ours  ?  Division  of  the  land  ?  Yes  ;  but  how  ? 
Down  with  the  Queen  ?  Much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  and  yes  ; 
if  you'll  be  the  man  to  bell  the  cat.  Revolution  ?  I'm  agree 
able." 

At  this  juncture  the  American  thought  best  to  lay  a 
strong  grasp  upon  the  arm  of  the  one  with  whom  he  was 
playing  checkers.  It  was  but  too  evident  that  Tom  Perkins 
was  becoming  very  angry,  and  his  friend  was  glad  when, 
in  a  pause  which  followed,  the  Cheap  Jack  said,  striking  an 
attitude  : 

"  Listen,  it  is  the  Poet  Laureate  speaks,  which  his  name 
is  Tennyson,  Al-fe-red  Tennyson  : 

'  Slowly  comes  a  hungry  people, 

As  a  lion,  creepin'  nigher, 
Glares  at  one  that  nods  and  winks 
Behind  a  slowly  dyin'  fire.'  " 

To  the  astonishment  of  Tom  Perkins,  his  companion,  in  a 
loud,  clear  voice,  completed  the  lines  : 

"  '  Yet  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages 

One  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened 
With  the  process  of  the  suns.' " 

There  was  something  in  the  fresh,  cheery,  decided  tones 
which  caused  every  man  to  look  up  with  sharp  suspicion. 

"  And  who  the  diwel  are  you  ?  "  the  Cheap  Jack  demand 
ed  at  last. 

"  Who  am  I  ?  "  And  Jack  Peters  arose  and  put  on  his 
hat.  "  I  am  an  engineer,  and  I  am  an  American." 


YANKEE  ADVICE.  115 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

YANKEE    ADVICE. 

WHEN  Jack  Peters  announced  himself  as  an  American, 
it  was  as  if  a  gust  of  wind,  fresh  and  bracing,  had  suddenly 
blown  upon  the  befuddled  customers  of  the  "  Hammer  and 
down  wi'  'em."  There  were  some  moments  of  silence,  during 
which  the  fumes  of  beer  and  of  tobacco  seemed  to  rift,  for 
the  instant  at  least,  from  the  audience.  The  Cheap  Jack 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  From  America,  are  you  ?  Well,  what  do  you  bid  as 
your  dose  for  our  troubles  ?  " 

The  one  spoken  to  had  not  intended  to  say  anything  when 
he  came  in.  Like  his  companion,  his  sole  object  had  been  to 
study  the  disaffected  and  dangerous  classes  of  England  and 
other  countries  as  thoroughly  as  possible,  and  he  shook  his 
head  and  kept  his  seat.  But  there  were  cries  of  "Yankee  ! " 
"  Yankee  !  "  until  he  arose. 

"My  friends,"  he  began,  but  now  the  cry  was  "Plat 
form  ! "  "  Platform  ! "  and  he  stepped  upon  it,  and  stood 
there  for  a  moment  in  his  coarse  clothing.  His  face  was 
bright,  open,  clear  ;  his  eye  cool  and  intelligent ;  from  his 
first  word  there  was,  as  in  his  father's  shops  in  Russia,  an 
instant  distinction  between  him  and  them  of  master  and  men. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  intrude  upon  you,"  he  said.  "  It  is 
your  country,  not  mine.  But  I  can  give  you  one  cure  for 
your  disease.  You  say  times  are  hard,  your  Government  op 
pressive  ;  very  well,  go  to  Canada,  Australia,  or — I  will  give 
you  one  big  pill  for  your  ills — go  to  America." 

The  Cheap  Jack  had  resumed  his  table,  his  mug,  and  his 
pipe  by  this  time,  and  the  American  had  the  platform  to 
himself. 

"  Look  at  it,  men,"  he  continued,  "  you  can  get  land  over 
the  water  for  next  to  nothing  an  acre.  We  Yankees  are 
beginning  to  feed  all  Europe.  Help  us  to  do  it.  You  will 
be  well  paid  for  it.  Listen  ;  I  happen  to  have  with  me  the 


116 


THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 


prices  paid  for  work  in  Europe,  say  in  Belgium,  as  compared 
with  those  paid  in  New  York,"  and  he  read  rapidly  as  fol 
lows  : 


OCCUPATIONS. 

Belgium. 

New  York. 

Bricklayers  

$6  00 

$12  to  $15 

Masons  

6  00 

12  to    18 

Carpenters  

5  40 

9  to    12 

Gasfitters  

5  40 

10  to    14 

Painters  

4  20 

10  to    16 

Plasterers  .           

5  40 

10  to    15 

Plumbers  

6  00 

12  to    18 

Blacksmiths  

4  40 

10  to    14 

Bakers  

4  40 

5  to      8 

Cabinetmakers  

4  80 

9  to    13 

Saddlemakers  

4  80 

12  to    15 

Tinsmiths  

4  80 

10  to    14 

Laborers  

3  00 

6  to      7 

"  That  is  plain  enough,"  he  went  on  ;  "  now  look  at  what 
food  costs  comparatively  : 


PROVISIONS. 

Belgium. 

New  York. 

Bread,  per 
Beef,        ' 
Veal,        ' 
Mutton, 
Pork, 
Lard, 
Butter, 
Cheese, 
Coffee, 
Sugar, 

pound  

4  to    5  ce 

16  to  20 
16  to  20 
16  to  20 
16  to  20 
20 
20  to  50 
20  to  25 
30  to  40 
15  to  20 

nts. 

4^      cei 
8  to  16 
8  to  24 
9  to  16 
8  to  16 
10  to  12 
25  to  32 
12  to  15 
20  to  30 
8  to  10 

its. 

i 

! 

"  But  it  don't  say  anything  about  beer,"  the  Cheap  Jack 
said  when  he  was  through,  and  there  was  a  laugh. 

"  Out  west  of  New  York,"  the  speaker  continued,  "  every 
thing  is  even  cheaper  ;  now — " 

"  You  are  talking  too  rapidly,"  his  friend  said  to  him  in 
a  low  voice  ;  "  go  slower." 


YANKEE  ADVICE.  117 

"  That's  a  fact,"  Jack  Peters  added,  as  he  saw  the  slow, 
dull  faces  of  the  crowd  before  him.  Evidently  they  wanted 
to  know  what  to  do.  America  had  long  been  to  most  of 
them  a  vast  Canaan  of  milk  and  honey,  but  a  wilderness  of 
water  lay  between,  and  where  was  their  Moses  ? 

"All  very  good,  Mr.  Yankee,"  Cheap  Jack  called  out, 
being  the  sharpest  of  them,  from  his  seat,  "  but  how  are  we 
goin'  to  get  us  there  ?  Where's  your  balloon  ?  Is  it  a-waitin' 
at  the  door  ?  " 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this,  in  which  the  American  joined. 

"  Before  I  answer  that,"  he  said,  good-humoredly,  "  let 
me  tell  you  another  thing.  In  my  country  the  Government, 
from  constable  up  to  President,  is  made  by  the  people,  from 
the  people,  for  the  people.  Now,  it  is  in  working-people  we 
are  most  interested,  because  our  nation  is  made  up  of  that 
sort  chiefly.  On  that  account  our  Government  made  our 
consuls  everywhere  find  out  and  report  upon  the  condition 
of  workmen  all  over  the  world  as  compared  with  those  in 
America.  Then  the  reports  were  digested  into  four  facts.  I 
have  them  here  on  a  bit  of  paper,  which  I  want  our  friend, 
Old  Statistics,  to  stick  up  over  his  bench  and  to  get  by  heart. 
Shall  I  read  them?" 

There  were  cries  of  "  Out  wi'  it !  "  "  Let's  hear  !  "  "  Read 
away,"  and  Jack  Peters  read  aloud,  slowly  and  distinctly,  as 
follows  : 

"  All  reports  from  over  the  world  prove  these  startling 
things  : 

"  1.  That  wages  in  the  United  States  are  double  those  of 
Belgium,  Denmark,  France,  and  England  ;  three  times  those 
of  Germany,  Italy,  and  Spain,  and  four  times  those  of  the 
Netherlands. 

"  2.  That  the  prices  of  the  necessaries  of  life  are  lower  in 
the  United  States  than  in  Europe,  and  that  the  laborer  in  the 
United  States,  were  he  satisfied  with  the  scanty  and  miser 
able  fare  upon  which  the  European  laborer  must  live,  can 
purchase  like  food  for  less  money  than  it  can  be  purchased 
in  Europe. 


118  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  3.  That  the  French  working-people,  with  far  less  wages, 
are  happier  than  the  working-people  of  Great  Britain,  who 
receive  the  highest  wages  in  Europe,  on  account  of  the 
steadiness  and  economical  habits  of  the  former,  and  the 
strikes,  drinking  habits,  and  consequent  recklessness  of  the 
latter. 

"4.  That  more  misery  results  from  strikes,  drinking, 
socialism,  and  communism  in  England  and  in  Germany  than 
from  all  other  causes  combined,  hard  times  included." 

The  company  put  the  information  into  their  pipes  and 
smoked  it  in  a  slow  and  pondering  fashion. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  us  how  to  get  there,"  the  Cheap 
Jack  cried  out  at  last.  "  Telegraph  me  over  to  begin  with. 
I'm  willin'." 

"I  will  tell  you  how  to  get  there,"  Jack  Peters  said, 
good-naturedly,  "  but  it  is  not  by  a  balloon  any  more  than 
by  a  telegraph.  There  are  plenty  of  ships  to  put  you  over 
for  a  matter  of  five  pounds.  But  don't  stop  in  New  York 
when  you  get  there  ;  another  five  pounds  will  whirl  you  a 
thousand  or  two  miles  west.  It  won't  hurt  you  to  have  an 
other  five  pounds  in  your  pouch  then  to  begin  on." 

"  Fifteen  pound  !  "  The  Cheap  Jack  but  expressed  the 
feeling  of  the  others.  "  Where's  the  fifteen  pound  to  come 
from  ?  Got  it  in  your  pocket  ?  Give  us  a  hold  of  it." 

"  What  can  you  do  here  ?  "  Jack  Peters  demanded  in  re 
turn.  "  The  French  may  go  into  revolutions  ;  Englishmen 
don't  straighten  things  in  a  rush  ;  they  move  slowly.  As  for 
the  French—" 

But  here  there  was  an  interruption. 

"  Sare,"  cried  a  voice  from  a  back  seat,  "  you  sail  not  in 
sult  my  countree.  Behold  me  !  I  am  of  the  glorious  Com 
mune — " 

"  Sit  down  !  "  the  American  thundered  ;  "  I  will  be  done 
in  a  moment,  and  you  can  say  all  you  want  to." 

"  Down,  Frenchy,  down  !  "  arose  from  all  sides.  "  Go 
on,  Yankee,  -go  on  !  "  And  the  Gaul  was  silenced  for  the 
moment,  but  all  present  were  becoming  excited.  Perhaps 


YANKEE  ADVICE.  119 

the  American,  being  a  young  man,  was  more  so  than  he 
knew. 

"I  honor  France  and  the  French,"  he  said,  "but  there 
are  two  sets  of  scoundrels  there  who  have  done  their  best  to 
destroy  it.  They  are  to  the  French  people  what  to  the  Seine 
is  its  mud  at  the  bottom  and  its  froth  at  the  top.  Louis  Na 
poleon  and  his  chauvins  were  the  bloody  foam  of  a  time. 
But  the  mud,  the  mire — "  Here  the  Frenchman  bounced  to 
his  feet ;  the  American  looked  at  him  coolly,  and  added  : 
"  The  mud,  which,  alas  !  is  always  there,  is  the  Communist 
and  Red  Republican." 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  lips  the  impulsive 
Frenchman  had  stationed  himself  half  way  down  toward 
the  speaker,  and  was  talking  vehemently. 

"  It  is  not  so  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Voild  !  behold  me  !  I 
am  of  de  Commune  !  France  moves  de  universe,  and  we  ? 
It  is  we  who  mettre  en  mouvement,  move  France.  Who 
took  de  Bastile  ?  Who  cut  off  de  head  of  Capet,  him  you 
call  Louis  XVI?  Who  drove,  enf oncer,  de  nobles  from 
France?  Who  mettre  d  Venvers,  upset  you  call  him,  de 
Pope  ?  Who  scared  away  de  priests,  whish  !  like  a  flock  of 
polisson,  no,  crow  ? — merle,  what  you  call  him  ?  blackbirds  ? 
Who  fought  wid  all  de  world  under  Kleber,  Hoche  ?  Who 
made  Charles  Dix,  Charles  X  you  call  him,  s'enfuir,  s'elan- 
cer,  se  precipiter,  cut,  what  you  call  it  ?  his  leetle  stick  ? 
Who  ran  Louis  Philippe  out  of  Paris  wid  his  blue  para- 
pluie,  what  you  call  it  ?  umbrella  under  his  knee,  no,  his 
elbow,  his  arm  ?  Who  voted  decheance  against  Louis  Na 
poleon  ?  It  is  de  Red  Republicans  do  de  work.  So  here  in 
your  Angleterre.  You  talk  of  your  beef  ;  bah  !  of  your 
leetle  pound  ;  your  gages,  salaire,  wages  ;  your  meeserable 
leetle  poche,  pocket  ;  bah  !  Behold  me  !  Lever  les  yeux  d 
moi!  voilaf" 

The  communist  was  to  the  burly  Englishmen  around  him 

as  a  terrier  is  among  bull-dogs.     His  face  and  head  were  a 

whirlwind  of  hair,  which  apparently  had  never  known  the 

despotism  of  a  comb  ;  his  hairy  bosom  appeared  through  the 

6 


120  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

red  flannel  of  the  shirt  he  wore  ;  his  ferret-like  eyes  flashed 
with  the  fires  of  absinthe  ;  his  long,  lean  arms  gesticulated  in 
such  a  manner  that  the  beer-drinkers  about  him  had  to  dodge 
and  duck  their  heads  continually  to  avoid  being  struck. 

"  No,  sare  ! "  he  vociferated,  turning  upon  the  American, 
who  stood  looking  at  him  as  a  sane  man  does  upon  a  lunatic, 
"  no,  sare,  it  is  not  a  question  of  beef  and  meeserable  what 
you  call  ?  pork.  It  is  blood,  sang,  we  need  in  dis,  dis  bete 
comme  une  oie,  dis  stupid  England  ;  blood,  bloo-d-d-d  !  It 
is  sword,  fire,  barricade  !  aux  armes !  What  we  shall  have 
is  r-r-r-evolution  ! "  and  the  word  rolled  from  his  lips  like 
the  rattle  of  a  kettledrum.  To  his  astonishment,  there  fol 
lowed  upon  it  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  was  no  more  to  those 
present  than  a  monkey.  For  a  moment  he  looked  around  in 
astonishment.  Then,  "  Cochon  !  English  hogs  !  "  he  shout 
ed,  and  walked  out  with  gestures  of  profound  disgust,  which 
awakened  another  peal  of  laughter. 

"  No,"  the  American  said,  with  a  smile,  as  the  noise  ceased, 
"  we  English  and  Americans  don't  right  our  wrongs  in  that 
way.  But  now,"  he  added,  as  the  audience  settled  itself 
again  to  its  tobacco  and  drink,  "  I  will  say  one  last  thing,  and 
sit  down." 

By  this  time  the  low-ceiled,  dingy  room  was  densely 
crowded,  many  others  having  heard  what  was  going  on  and 
pressed  their  way  in.  The  air  was  so  dense  with  smoke 
from  the  pipes,  so  foul  with  the  odors  of  the  unwashed  cus 
tomers  and  their,  in  many  cases,  steaming  tumblers  of  rum 
and  gin,  that  even  Jack  Peters  could  not  endure  it. 

"  Let  me  say  one  word  more,"  he  went  on.  "  You  can't 
raise  the  twenty  pounds  or  so  to  take  you  over  the  water  ? 
Our  friend  with  the  wonderful  memory  has  told  us  what  the 
Church  and  the  aristocracy  cost.  Friends,  you  are  under 
the  cruel  dominion  of  a  master  who  costs  you  every  year  far 
more  than  Queen,  bishops,  and  nobles.  Listen  ;  do  you  know 
what  your  liquors  cost  you  ?  One  hundred  and  forty — not 
thousands — millions  of  pounds  a  year  !  That  is  seven  hun 
dred  millions  of  our  dollars  !  How  much  your  tobacco  costs 


YANKEE  ADVICE.  121 

in  addition  I  don't  happen  to  know.  Now,  if  every  man 
would  but  save  up  his  outlay — " 

But  the  hearers,  as  he  proceeded,  were  in  no  mood  for 
that.  "  We  don't  want  no  teetotal  talk  here,"  cried  at  last 
a  shrill  voice  from  the  rear.  It  was  the  portly  barmaid,  who 
was  at  the  door  looking  in,  and  there  was  a  murmur  of  as 
sent.  The  American  glanced  around  upon  the  sodden  faces, 
and  stepped  sadly  off  from  the  platform.  His  friend  arose, 
and  the  two  men  went  toward  the  door,  from  which  the  bar 
maid  had  disappeared. 

Unluckily,  the  burly  Cheap  Jack  had  taken  too  much 
liquor.  Moreover,  the  last  speaker  had  broken  in  upon  his 
eloquence. 

"  I  say,  stop  there  !  "  he  called  after  the  departing  men. 
They  paid  no  heed  and  pressed  on,  for  the  atmosphere  was 
suffocating.  But  the  Cheap  Jack  was  a  bully  and  a  pugilist, 
and  had  resolved  upon  reestablishing  his  importance  in  the 
"  Hammer  an'  down  wi'  'em." 

"Hold  on  !"  He  had  followed  them,  and  now  laid  his 
hand  roughly  upon  the  shoulder  of  Tom  Perkins.  For  an 
ordinary  workman  that  person  seemed  to  be  singularly  sensi 
tive.  On  the  instant  he  had  turned  around,  had  struck  the 
Cheap  Jack  between  the  eyes  with  his  utmost  force,  and  the 
brawny  orator  of  the  ale-house  was  lying  flat  upon  his  back 
among  his  astonished  friends.  In  the  same  moment  the 
American  had  put  his  arm  around  his  companion,  and,  lay 
ing  down  a  half  sovereign  upon  the  bar  in  payment  of  their 
bill  as  he  passed  out,  had  drawn  him  into  the  street. 

"  We  can  not  fight  all  the  hammers  in  the  '  Down  wi'  'em ' 
at  once,"  he  remonstrated.  "  If  you  are  to  go  with  me  into 
the  depths  of  communism  in  Germany,  France,  Russia,  you 
must  be  more  prudent,  my  lord — Tom,  I  mean.  Besides, 
yours  is  a  poor  way  to  put  down  communism. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said  to  himself  the  next  moment,  "  a  swift 
knock-down  is  the  only  way  England  has  discovered  to  rem 
edy  the  discontent  of  its  dangerous  classes  thus  far."  And 
he  murmured  under  his  breath  : 


122  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

" '  Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers, 

And  I  linger  on  the  shore ; 
And  the  individual  withers, 

And  the  world  is  more  and  more.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIH. 

DIVINE    PATIENCE. 

HENRY  HARRIS,  like  his  father,  -was  often  called  away 
by  business,  as  Lord  Conyngham  was  by  pleasure,  and  the 
absence  of  these  from  Paris  had  passed  unnoticed.  One 
morning  after  his  return  the  American  was  loitering  with  his 
sister  through  the  Exposition.  As  if  by  a  common  but  un 
conscious  attraction,  they  found  themselves  standing  at  last 
beside  the  bust  which  had  so  arrested  their  attention.  No 
one  else  seemed  to  be  specially  interested  in  it,  but  the  bro 
ther  said  : 

"  It  grows  upon  me.  You  know  I  am  not  enthusiastic 
about  people  in  general ;  it  is  only  for  a  person  now  and 
then  that  I  form  an  attachment,  not  often.  I  like  a  person 
either  very  much  or  not  at  all.  It  is  so  of  music  ;  there  are 
certain  airs  of  which  I  never  grow  weary  :  all  other  music  is 
to  me  as  the  rattle  of  wheels  along  the  street  or  the  roar  of 
the  winds.  Now,  I  like  this  sad  and  patient  face.  There  is 
a  certain  something  of  home  and  heart  in  it  of  which  one  no 
more  wearies  than  he  does  of  the  air  or  of  the  light." 

"  So  it  is  with  me,"  his  sister  said  ;  "  but  I  think  we  like 
it  the  more  because  of  its  contrast  to  the  noisy,  shifting, 
brilliant  scene  around.  It  rests  one.  This  peaceful  head  is 
patience  in  marble.  Listen,  and  I  will  give  you  the  same 
patience  in  music,"  and  in  a  low,  clear  voice  Mary  Harris 
repeated  Wordsworth's  lines : 

"  '  The  little  hedgerow  birds, 
That  peck  along  the  road,  regard  him  not. 


DIVINE  PATIENCE.  123 

He  travels  on,  and  in  his  face,  his  step, 

His  gait,  is  one  expression  ;  every  limb, 

His  look  and  bending  figure,  all  bespeak 

A  man  who  does  not  move  with  pain,  but  moves 

"With  thought.     He  is  insensibly  subdued 

To  settled  quiet ;  he  is  one  by  whom 

All  effort  seems  forgotten ;  one  to  whom 

Long  patience  hath  such  mild  composure  given, 

That  patience  now  doth  seem  a  thing  of  which 

He  hath  no  need.     He  is  by  nature  led 

To  peace  so  perfect,  that  the  young  behold 

With  envy,  what  the  old  man  hardly  feels.'  " 

"  Yes,"  her  brother  assented,  "  it  expresses  it  exactly.  Do 
you  know,  Mary,  it  is  the  accuracy  of  anything  which  pleases 
us  ;  accuracy,  whether  it  be  in  a  poem,  a  painting,  a  statue, 
or  a  machine." 

"  You  mean  it  must  be  the  expression,"  his  sister  con 
sented,  "of  truth;  it  is  that  which  strikes  and  pleases  us 
most  in  the  face,  in  the  tones  even,  of  a  friend.  But  I  won 
der,"  she  added,  glancing  around,  "  where  the  artist  is.  I 
have  been  here  twice  when  you  were  away,  but  could  not 
find  her." 

Henry  Harris  made  no  reply,  and  they  soon  after  left  the 
grounds.  Unreserved  as  the  family  generally  were  in  their 
intercourse  with  one  another,  each  member  had  none  the  less 
some  subjects  upon  which  silence  was  an  instinct.  In  fact, 
there  are  matters  upon  which  one  may  think  and  feel,  act 
also,  with  deepest  purpose,  and  yet  refuse  to  discuss  even 
with  one's  self.  It  was  so  with  Henry  Harris  in  regard  to 
the  artist  of  whom  his  sister  had  spoken.  He  had  seen  her 
but  once.  There  was  no  probability  of  his  falling  in  love 
with  her,  since,  and  to  a  greater  degree  than  his  own  family 
suspected,  he  was  enamored  with  Lady  Blanche.  The 
Englishwoman  was  to  him  the  flower  of  her  sex.  Not  even 
Lord  Conyngham  could  appreciate  better  than  her  brother 
did  the  loveliness  of  Mary  Harris,  but  Lady  Blanche  was 
different.  Her  pride  of  race  was  to  her,  in  his  eyes,  like  in- 


124  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

visible  wings  ;  it  both  lifted  her  and  gave  to  her  a  flight  and 
a  force  above  any  woman  he  had  hitherto  known.  "  It  is 
absurd,"  he  felt  in  his  silent  soul,  "  to  compare  her  with  such 
a  thing,  and  yet  she  is  like,  yes,  a  perfect  engine.  And  gen 
tle  and  beautiful  as  she  seems,  she  will  crush  whatever  ven 
tures — presumes — too  much  upon  her  gentleness,  as  an  engine 
crushes  an  insect  upon  the  rail." 

But  it  was  not  an  agreeable  way  of  looking  at  things, 
and  the  young  machinist  turned  to  other  thoughts.  With 
all  his  impetuosity,  he  was  wary.  From  boyhood  he  had 
rambled  about  among  the  whirling  wheels  and  trip-hammers 
of  his  father's  shops,  among  the  white-hot  masses  of  iron  be 
ing  lifted  and  swung  this  way  and  that  by  derricks,  among 
the  showers  of  flying  sparks  and  spray  of  molten  metal,  until 
he  had  grown  into  unceasing  caution  as  into  the  habit  of  his 
life.  "  So  long,"  he  reasoned,  "  as  I  keep  steady  watch  over 
myself  I  need  fear  nothing  else.  But  I  love  her  the  more 
that  it  is  so  dangerous  a  thing  to  do,  and — we  will  see  ! " 

"With  all  this  he  had  the  interest  in  Isidore  Atchison 
which  one  skilled  mechanic  has  in  another.  That  she  was  a 
woman,  that  she  had  made  a  perfect  work  of  art  instead  of  a 
machine,  interested  him  that  much  the  more.  He  had  gone 
repeatedly  to  the  spot  where  he  had  first  seen  her,  but  in 
vain.  At  last,  applying  in  the  proper  quarters,  and  obtain 
ing  her  address,  one  afternoon  he  slowly  climbed  the  many 
flights  of  stairs  which  led  to  her  apartments.  The  instant 
he  learned  the  part  of  Paris  in  which  she  lived,  he  had 
guessed  as  to  her  poverty  ;  the  sight  of  the  house,  the  inte 
rior,  worse  than  the  exterior,  confirmed  his  fears. 

"She  is  very  poor;  I  must  therefore  be  specially  respect 
ful,"  he  said,  as  he  knocked  at  last  at  the  door.  A  voice 
from  within  called  him  to  enter,  and  he  took  in  the  whole 
situation  at  a  glance  as  he  did  so.  Pillowed  into  a  sitting 
position  upon  the  bed  was  the  old  man  whose  bust  he  had 
admired.  The  dim  light  fell  upon  the  silvered  head  from 
above,  bringing  out  the  delicate  lines,  the  downward  bend 
of  the  neck,  the  indescribable  aspect  of  peace — it  was  the 


DIVINE  PATIENCE.  125 

old  man  who  idealized  the  marble,  and  not  the  marble  the 
man.  Upon  a  cushion  on  his  knees  before  him  in  his  bed 
lay  a  block  of  wood,  but  the  flowers  upon  it  seemed  to  be  so 
arrested  by  some  winter  that  they  could  not  unfold  as  yet. 
The  hand  which  held  the  tool  was  thin  and  feeble,  but  it 
persisted,  as  did  the  steady  patience  of  the  eyes. 

Upon  the  other  side  of  the  small  apartment  the  daughter 
stood  at  work  upon  something  at  a  stand.  With  the  en 
trance  of  their  visitor  the  girl  had  thrown  a  wet  cloth  over 
it,  and  now  turned  to  meet  him.  For  the  instant  she  looked 
like  a  beautiful  boy  instead,  for  a  paper  cap  was  perched  upon 
her  head,  and  an  apron  of  brown  linen  covered  her  from  neck 
to  feet.  But  her  eyes  were  there,  her  features  so  like,  and 
yet  unlike,  those  of  her  father.  As  to  that,  had  she  been 
wholly  invisible,  there  was  that  modulation  in  her  voice 
which  is  to  speech  what  carving  is  to  a  statue. 

"  Pardon  my  intrusion,"  Henry  Harris  said,  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  as  if  speaking  to  Lady  Blanche  in  her  diamonds, 
"  but  I  feared  lest  I  should  be  anticipated  by  some  purchaser. 
I  greatly  admire  and  wish  to  buy,  if  you  will  be  so  kind,  the 
marble  which  you  exhibit,"  and  he  mentioned  its  location 
and  number.  His  manner  was  as  cold  as  it  was  respectful, 
even  when  he  added  other  words  in  praise  of  the  object. 
"  With  your  permission,  sir,"  he  added,  with  an  inclination 
of  his  head  to  the  father,  "  will  you  allow  me  ?  "  and  he  be 
came  intent  upon  the  unfinished  carving  while  the  daughter 
slipped  silently  into  her  little  room.  Nor  did  he  seem  to 
have  observed  that  she  had  changed  her  dress,  and  relieved 
herself  of  the  covering  which  had  protected  her  abundant 
hair,  when  she  returned. 

It  is  one  function  of  perfect  breeding  to  place  people  at 
ease  with  whomsoever  they  are  thrown.  Moreover,  persons 
of  the  same  grade  recognize  a  friend  as  well  as  an  equal  in 
each  other,  although  their  meeting  is  but  for  the  moment. 
In  a  little  while  Henry  Harris  had  taken  a  seat,  but  through 
out  it  was  he  to  whom  favor  was  extended  ;  obligation  was 
upon  his  side,  not  theirs.  He  made  one  mistake.  "  Will 


126  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

you  permit  me  ?  "  he  asked  at  last,  rising  and  taking  a  step 
toward  the  covered  stand. 

"  Pardon  me,  no."  The  young  lady  had  interposed  her 
self  in  the  same  instant  with  a  smile,  but,  somehow,  her  No 
was  as  decided  as  any  he  had  ever  heard,  and  he  also  smiled 
and  resumed  his  seat.  Nor  did  it  take  many  words  to  com 
plete  his  business. 

"  I  regret,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  be  unable  to  purchase  the 
marble  unless  I  can  have  it  for — "  And  he  mentioned  a 
sum  which  brought  a  flush  of  rapture  into  the  face  of  the 
girl. 

"And  now  she  is  like  Carlo  Dolci's  Bacchante,"  the 
father  said,  forgetful  of  all  else. 

The  daughter  colored  and  then  laughed.  "  It  is  so  much 
more  than  I  had  expected,"  she  began. 

"  It  is  less  than  its  actual  value,"  the  purchaser  said, 
gravely.  "  Of  course,  it  will  remain  at  present  where  it  is. 
You  will  allow  me  to  make  sure  of  my  bargain  by  paying 
for  it,"  and  he  handed  the  crisp  bills  to  the  girl,  "  and  to 
thank  you,"  he  added,  with  feeling,  "  since  it  is  a  present  I 
am  making  my  mother." 

A  few  moments  after,  he  had  given  his  card,  had  bowed, 
and  departed.  As  his  footsteps  died  upon  the  stairway,  the 
girl  had  fallen  upon  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  her  face  in  her 
father's  lap  as  he  sat,  the  bank-notes  lying  upon  the  floor 
beside  her.  If  she  was  an  artist,  she  was  also  a  woman,  and 
was  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Her  father  laid 
his  left  hand  upon  her  head,  his  eyes  were  closed,  his  lips 
trembled.  But  he  remained  an  artist;  for  when,  after  a  while, 
his  daughter  lifted  her  face,  her  eyes  sparkling  through  her 
tears,  her  disordered  hair  about  her  face,  he  held  his  head  a 
little  upon  one  side,  examined  her  critically,  and  murmured  : 

"  Fra  Angelico's  Magdalen,  only  better." 

But  his  Magdalen  was  on  her  feet  and  laughing.  "  And 
now,"  she  said,  "  now  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  rapidly  arranging  her 
hair.  "Wine?  Jelly?  Yes,  and  white  bread  for  you,  father, 
and  roast  beef,  grapes,  medicine,  vegetables.  Oh,  yes,  and 


AMERICAN  GIRLS.  127 

that  photograph  of  the  Murillo  picture  you  have  wanted  so  ! 
O  father,"  she  said,  "  I  am  so  glad  !  " 

"  Niobe  ?  "  the  old  man  demanded  of  himself,  as  she  gave 
way  again  to  tears.  "  Yes,  and  Aurora  ?  "  as  she  laughed 
once  more,  with  rosy  face.  "Yes,  the  Aurora  of  Guido." 

"  That  is  because  morning  has  dawned.  But  I  must  go," 
she  added,  basket  in  hand,  and  she  kissed  him  and  went  out, 
only  to  open  the  door  again.  "  You  are  sure  you  are  not 
afraid  to  be  left  alone  with  her?  "  nodding  her  head  toward 
the  covered  stand.  "  Ah,  old  lady,"  she  laughed,  shaking 
her  finger  at  the  same  object,  "I'm  done  withyow/" 

Her  father  was  thinking  only  of  his  daughter,  she  seemed 
so  happy  ;  his  eyes  were  fastened  upon  her  radiant  face. 

"  Euphrosyne,"  he  said  ;  but  she  shut  the  door  and  ran 
down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

AMERICAN    GIRLS. 

ONE  afternoon  a  number  of  the  young  lady  friends  of 
Mary  Harris  were  assembled  in  the  rooms  of  that  family  at 
their  hotel.  Virginia  Jossellyn  and  Ellen  Ellsworth  were 
among  them,  and,  having  been  riding  out  and  shopping  to 
gether,  they  were  all  laughing  now  and  chatting  with  each 
other  at  a  great  rate.  In  a  word,  they  were  in  that  flutter 
of  high  health  and  overflowing  spirits  which  brings  back 
their  own  youth  again  to  the  old,  even  to  see  and  to  hear. 
They  were  "training,"  as  Miss  Ellsworth  calls  it,  "in  a  gale," 
as  Miss  Jossellyn  said  ;  and  their  merry  malice  seemed  to  be 
turned  upon  Mary  Harris. 

"  She  tries  to  make  us  think  that  she  does  not  care,"  cried 
the  New  England  belle.  "  See  how  placid  and  peaceful  she 
pretends  to  be.  Ahem  !  How  does  your  ladyship  feel  this 
afternoon  ?  "  And  the  lively  girl  courtesied  before  her  with 
mock  reverence.  She  herself  was  as  slight  as  a  willow- wand, 


128  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

as  frail  almost  and  as  fair  as  a  wreath  of  mist.  But  it  was 
a  wreath  of  mist  over  Niagara,  for,  with  sparkling  eyes  and 
cheeks  of  the  hue  of  the  inner  lips  of  a  conch-shell,  the  lovely 
girl  was  in  unceasing  motion  from  morning  until  night, 
laughing,  talking,  singing,  riding,  walking  ;  it  was  almost  as 
if  she  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be  weary  or  to  sleep. 
The  Americans  in  Paris  had  seen  many  like  her  at  home,  but 
the  sober  Spaniards,  the  stolid  Germans,  even  the  mercurial 
French,  watched  her  with  wonder.  They  could  not  under 
stand  how  one  so  slight  could  possess  such  vitality,  such 
will. 

"  Ellen  dear,"  Mary  Harris  said,  "  you  were  wild  enough 
in  old  Massachusetts,  and  the  air  of  Paris  has  made  you  more 
so.  Do  you  know  what  Hop  Fun,  the  mandarin,  said  of  you 
last  week  ?  " 

"  No  ;  what  was  it  ?  "  the  other  demanded.  "  Was  it  a 
compliment  ?  Does  he  want  to  make  me  a  mandariness  ? 
But,  no,"  and  she  put  out  one  of  hef  feet ;  "  no  ;  not  even  to 
oblige  him  could  I  consent  to  have  my  feet  squeezed  into  a 
nutshell.  What  was  it,  Mary  ?  " 

"  When  he  saw  you,  dear,  you  chanced  to  be — as  you 
always  are — laughing  and  talking  with  some  friends.  In 
this  case  it  was  under  an  American  flag,  which  was  flutter 
ing  its  silken  folds  of  blue  and  gold,  of  white  and  red,  in  a 
strong  breeze.  Henry  was  near  the  mandarin,  and  the  old 
Chinaman  caught  his  eye,  pointed  first  to  the  flag,  and  then 
to  you,  and  said,  'Kong-fu-tse  say,  Too  muchee  shine  is 
worse  than  dark.' " 

"  He  is  right,  Ellen,"  Miss  Jossellyn  said  ;  "  I  wonder  you 
do  not  get  tired.  See  how  quiet  I  am." 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  blonde  ;  you  are  a  brunette,"  laughed  the 
New  England  beauty,  looking  admiringly  at  the  rounded  and 
olive  loveliness  of  her  friend.  For  Virginia  Jossellyn  was 
plump  as  a  partridge,  but  beautifully  formed,  with  eyes  large 
and  dark,  lips  full  and  scarlet,  and  a  certain  languid  grace 
in  her  manner,  in  strong  contrast  to  the  swallow-like  rapidity 
with  which  her  friend  moved  and  spoke.  Her  very  tones 


AMERICAN  GIRLS.  129 

were  slow  and  sweet,  and,  unless  greatly  excited,  she  seemed 
to  yield  herself  without  exertion  to  the  mere  current  of 
things.  "  And  yet,"  Henry  Harris  had  said  to  his  sister  one 
day,  "the  dark,  sluggish,  almost  indolent  beauty  of  your 
friend  is  like  that  of  a  sleeping  tempest.  Only  let  there  be 
cause  enough,  and  you  would  find  that  even  Miss  Ellen  would 
be  but  as  a  frightened  bird  before  the  tropical  passion  of  our 
Southern  belle." 

But  Mary  Harris  had  kept  this,  as  she  did  many  things, 
to  herself.  Perhaps  her  long  residence  in  Europe  had  given 
breadth  and  balance  to  her  character,  in  addition  even  to 
that  which  she  had  inherited  from  her  father,  whom  she  so 
much  resembled.  Like  her  mother  also,  and  her  brother,  an 
unaffected  common  sense  was  the  basis  of  her  disposition. 
In  father  and  brother  it  was  granite  ;  in  her  it  was  as  crys 
tal.  She  merely  smiled,  therefore,  as  Ellen  turned  from  Vir 
ginia  and  renewed  hostilities. 

"  Your  ladyship  !  O  Mary,  think  of  having  a  footman 
to  call  out  before  you,  '  Lady  Conyngham  ! '  Ah,  but  does  it 
not  sound  lovely  ?  Wealth  is  nothing  to  it.  A  title  clothes 
you  more  richly  than  velvet  or  Valenciennes.  I  would  rather 
wear  it  than  the  finest  diamonds.  Would  you  not,  Virginia  ?  " 

"  I  prefer  being  not  even  a  Duchess  of  Plymouth — what 
an  insignificant  creature  he  is  ! — but  a  grand  duchess,  my 
child,"  the  brunette  said.  "  Lord  Conyngham  is  a  handsome 
gentleman  ;  not  that  he  is,"  she  added,  "  more  of  a  nobleman 
in  his  appearance  than  your  brother,  Mary.  But  how  will 
you  manage  with  Lady  Blanche,  my  dear  ?  She  should  not 
rule  me,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  Oh,  please  be  quiet,  girls  !  How  can  you  talk  so  much 
nonsense  ?  "  the  victim  said,  with  a  laugh  and  a  blush,  "  and 
when  you  know  that  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in — "  But 
at  this  moment  the  servant  handed  her  a  card,  and  she  said  to 
him,  "  Tell  Lord  Conyngham  that  I  will  be  down  in  a  few  mo 
ments,"  while  from  her  friends  around  her  arose  a  mocking 
chorus  of  "  Oh,  my  ! "  "I  thought  so  !  "  "  There  is  no  truth 
in  it ;  certainly  not !  " 


130  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  You  will  have  to  excuse  me,  girls,"  Mary  Harris  said, 
as  they  seized  her  tauntingly  upon  the  one  side  and  the 
other.  "  He  told  me  at  the  opera,  last  night,  that  he  would 
call  to-day.  It  is  because  he  is  about  being  absent  from 
Paris,  I  believe.  I  dare  say  it  is  merely  to  say  good-by." 
But  her  remarks  were  received  with  utter  incredulity,  and 
she  had  to  break  from  her  friends  with  a  laugh,  shaking  her 
head  at  them  threateningly,  as  she  escaped  to  her  own  room. 

Apart  from  the  mere  circumstance  and  drapery  of  his 
rank  and  social  usages,  Lord  Conyngham  was  as  simple  and 
thoroughly  good  and  true  as  any  young  man  who  toiled  at 
the  moment  in  his  shirt-sleeves  in  the  fields  of  Vermont  or 
"Wisconsin,  or  in  any  factory  or  counting-room  in  London  or 
Edinburgh.  It  had  been  a  great  advantage  to  him  that  his 
mother  had  been  an  excellent  woman.  And  yet,  as  has  been 
said,  Earl  Dorrington  almost  regretted  that  his  daughter 
Blanche  had  not  been  his  son  and  heir  instead.  It  was  not 
because  Blanche  was  so  much  his  superior  intellectually  as 
that  she  had  more  of  the  pride  of  race.  Not  that  Lord  Con 
yngham  had  not  exhibited  a  greater  degree  of  hauteur  than 
his  sister.  In  him  it  had  been  excessive,  had  amounted  to  inso 
lence  even  ;  but  this  was  because  it  had  been  largely  an  affec 
tation,  a  mere  mannerism.  As  it  had  been  a  sort  of  raiment 
which  he  had  put  on,  so  was  it  a  something  which  he  could 
put  off  also,  while  pride  was  with  his  sister  a  something  in 
the  blood  and  bone.  His  association  with  the  Harris  house 
hold  had  done  him  a  world  of  good.  It  was  something  like 
the  enjoyment  he  had  found  when  he  laid  aside  his  jewelry 
and  his  broadcloth  to  row  on  the  river,  or  to  play  cricket,  or 
as  when  he  had  laid  aside  his  tight-fitting  and  fashionable 
attire  to  put  on  a  soft  hat  and  flannel  for  a  cruise  in  his 
yacht.  There  were  times  for  Hyde  Park,  the  Queen's  draw 
ing-rooms,  the  ball,  Parliament,  the  club,  the  opera,  and  the 
like,  but  he  had  a  natural  preference  for  September  and 
game,  for  dogs  and  gun,  for  nature  and  for  Americans. 

"  I  enjoy  being  with  them,"  he  informed  his  father  in  re 
gard  to  his  new  friends. 


AMERICAN  GIRLS.  131 

"  Assuredly  so,"  remarked  the  old  Earl,  "  and  they  are 
most  respectable  persons  ;  exceedingly  wealthy,  I  learn.  Miss 
Harris  is  a  charming  young  lady,  I  have  observed.  I  do  not 
object  to  your  associating  with  them,  Alfred,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  as  I  have  before  remarked — a  certain  point,  my  son." 

As  to  Mary  Harris,  she  had  felt,  and  from  their  first  ac 
quaintance,  almost  as  much  at  ease  with  him  as  with  her 
brother.  Mere  girl  as  she  was,  strange  to  say,  a  certain  al 
most  maternal  feeling  arose  in  her  in  regard  to  him.  He 
was  to  her,  as  she  came  into  the  parlor  on  the  occasion  now 
spoken  of,  simply  a  noble-looking,  high-spirited,  honest- 
hearted  young  fellow,  who  loved  her  very  sincerely.  In  all 
his  acquaintance  there  was  not  a  lady  who  was  more  thor 
oughly  a  lady,  and  yet  there  was  no  gentleman  of  his  ac 
quaintance,  not  even  Henry  Harris,  with  whom  he  felt  as 
perfectly  free  as  he  did  with  her. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  I  do  not  have  to  talk  with  you  about  the 
weather,"  he  told  her  now.  "  Nor  about  either  opera  or  Ex 
position,  unless  I  want  to.  One  does  become  tired,  too,  of 
the  trashy  compliments.  Must  I  compliment  you?  How 
can  I  ?  "  he  said,  as  she  laughed  at  the  idea,  "  when  you  are 
so  immeasurably  above  all  compliment.  Miss  Mary,"  he 
added,  seriously,  "  I  can  not  tell  you  how  very  much,  very 
much — " 

"  No  compliments,  my  lord,"  she  laughingly  interrupted, 
and,  in  answer  to  her  questions,  he  was  led  off  into  speaking 
at  last  of  himself  and  of  his  plans  more  freely  than  he  had 
ever  done  with  his  sister.  No  wonder.  Mary  Harris  took 
really  a  deeper  interest  in  him  than  any  other  had  ever  done. 
She  had  drawn  from  him  long  before  this  the  story  of  his 
life  at  Harrow  and  afterward  at  Oxford.  Now  he  began, 
encouraged  by  her,  to  speak  of  his  efforts  in  Parliament. 

"  My  sister  is  eager  for  me  to  take  an  active  part,"  he 
said  at  last,  "  in  the  questions  of  the  day,  but  her  time  is 
naturally  occupied  with  other  matters.  Besides,  she  looks 
at  affairs  only  from  her  point  of  view  as  a  woman  and  as  a 
member  of  the  Peerage.  It  is  even  worse  with  my  father. 


132  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

He  is  blind  to  impending  dangers.  I  tell  him  that  he  is  like 
Louis  XVI  when  he  refused  to  see  the  awful  times  which 
were  coming  upon  him  ;  like  Charles  X,  of  France  ;  like 
Louis  Philippe  ;  like  poor  Louis  Napoleon ;  he  would  not 
see." 

"  I  suppose  the  Earl  explains  that  revolutions  happen  only 
in  France,"  the  lady  said. 

"  Assuredly  so  !  "  her  companion  laughed.  "  In  and  out 
of  France  it  is,  he  thinks,  only  idealists  who  fret  and  threat 
en.  People  may  edit  papers,  publish  books,  make  speeches, 
roar  and  rave  and  rant  as  much  as  they  please,  but  England, 
he  thinks,  is  rooted  off  to  itself  in  the  ocean  like  everlasting 
rock.  Whatever  billows  may  sweep  over  all  the  globe  be 
side,  they  will  merely  perish  in  foam  when  they  dash  upon 
our  shores.  It  is  not  the  thing  to  talk  to  a  young  lady 
about,  but,"  and  in  his  eagerness  he  arose  to  say  it,  "  it  does 
seem  to  me  that  we  may  have  trouble  some  of  these  days. 
I  am  a  Tory,  like  my  father,  but  that  rascal  Beaconsfield  is  a 
charlatan.  His  imperial  policy  is  brilliant,  but  I  don't  like 
it  any  more  than  I  do  his  trashy  romances.  To  me  it  is  all 
mere  gewgaw,  flimsy  as  the  spangles  upon  the  gauze  of  a 
rope-dancer.  Think  of  the  questions  pressing  upon  us — Irish 
Home  Rule,  education  of  the  masses  who  are  beginning  to 
govern  us,  Communism,  war  in  Afghanistan,  probably,  and 
in  Africa  ;  eternal  strife  with  Russia — " 

"  And  disestablishment,"  the  lady  suggested. 

"  Precisely.  I  am  not  much  of  a  religious  man — it  is  not 
in  my  line — but,"  said  the  Englishman,  "  things  are  getting 
into  a  horrible  mess.  They  have  upset  the  Irish  Church. 
Next  the  Scotch  establishment  must  go.  As  sure  as  you  live, 
although  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  say,  the  English  Church 
will  be  disestablished.  I  am  not  a  saint,  yet  it  is  a  frightful 
thing  to  have  our  Christianity,  our  religion,  you  know,  come 
down  with  a  crash  ;  it  is  like  the  end  of  the  world  ! " 

There  was  such  alarm  in  the  face  of  her  visitor  that  Mary 
Harris  could  have  smiled.  She  hastened,  instead,  to  describe 
to  him  how,  in  America,  religion  only  flourished  so  much 


AMERICAN  GIRLS.  133 

the  more  by  reason  of  its  separation  from  the  state.  He  lis 
tened  with  deep  interest. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said,  evidently  relieved  ;  "but  I  hope 
I  may  be  hanged  if  I  ever  looked  at  it  in  that  light  before." 

"  Your  father  told  me,"  Mary  Harris  added,  "  that  you 
had  an  ancestor  in  the  Crusades,  that  another  led  England  in 
its  wars  against  Spain  long  ago,  that  your  house  has  always 
had  some  one  man  of  mark  in  its  campaigns  with  France, 
Russia,  in  Africa,  Asia — wherever  it  has  fought.  One  of  the 
barons  at  Runnymede,  too,  bore  your  name.  Your  father  is 
proud  of  his  line,  but  he  believes  in  sitting  still,  in  contrpl- 
ling  matters  as  by  his  mere  weight,  while  you — " 

"  Intend  to  take  an  active  part,  yes,"  her  companion  added 
for  her,  catching  fire  from  her  eyes,  "  and  I  thank  you  for 
what  you  say." 

"  My  brother  has  been  studying  up  China  of  late,"  Mary 
Harris  said  when  at  last  her  visitor  arose,  after  a  long  visit, 
to  take  leave,  "  and  he  says  that  the  Chinese  have  what  is 
called  a  classic  dialect,  a  kind  of  dead  language,  never  used 
except  on  occasions  of  ceremony.  You  can  not  tell  how 
glad  I  am  that  we,"  it  was  said  archly,  "  can  sometimes  do 
without  it.  You  can  keep  your  classic  Chinese,  my  lord," 
she  laughed  as  she  gave  him  her  hand  in  parting,  "  until  you 
are  conversing  with  your  queen." 

"  I  am  conversing  with  her  now,"  Lord  Conyngham  said, 
as  he  bowed  and  withdrew. 

It  may  have  been  because  their  flame  was  fed  upon  more 
substantial  fuel  than  is  common,  but  when  they  separated  it 
was  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction  as  deep  as  it  was  pure. 


134:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

HOP   FUN. 

AMONG  the  machinery  on  exhibition  in  the  Exposition 
was  an  engine  with  certain  improvements,  which  Henry 
Harris  had,  with  his  father's  help,  himself  manufactured  for 
the  occasion.  The  young  inventor  often  visited  it,  and  was 
as  much  delighted  with  its  movement,  swift  yet  smooth,  as 
a  poet  would  have  been  with  the  cadence  of  his  first  sonnet. 
One  morning,  as  he  paused  beside  it  for  a  moment,  a  voice 
from  the  bystanders  fell  upon  his  ear  : 

"  Too  muchee  fast ! " 

Looking  around,  he  saw  that  it  was  a  Chinaman  whom 
he  had  often  observed  before  about  the  buildings.  He  wore 
a  crystal  button  upon  the  top  of  his  conical  cap,  denoting  his 
high  rank  as  a  mandarin.  His  tunic  and  trousers  were  of 
the  costliest  silks,  and  so  small  was  he  that  he  stood  in  seri 
ous  need  of  the  soles,  thick  and  white,  of  his  boat-like  shoes. 
But  that  which  brought  a  smile  to  the  lips  of  the  American 
was  his  face,  which  was  peculiar  even  for  a  Chinese.  It  was 
not  that  the  color  thereof  was  yellow,  the  nose  flat,  the 
cheekbones  prominent  and  wide  apart,  the  eyes  small  and 
oblique,  the  mouth  a  mere  slit  in  the  flesh  and  without  any 
fullness  of  lips,  the  queue  reaching  almost  to  the  ground  down 
his  back,  nor  that  the  finger-nails  were  like  quills  at  the  end 
of  each  finger,  long  and  white,  and  curiously  curved.  The 
thing  which  struck  Henry  Harris  most  was  that  the  face  of 
the  Chinaman  was  as  much  without  expression  as  if  it  had 
been  a  pasteboard  mask.  The  young  man  had  met  multi 
tudes  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Flowery  Kingdom,  especially 
when  sent  by  his  father  upon  errands  to  the  region  of  the 
Amoor  River,  which  separates  Russia  from  China,  but  he  had 
seen  none  whose  face  was  altogether  as  wooden  as  in  this  in 
stance. 

"  The  others  were  more  or  less  compelled  to  exert  them 
selves,"  he  reasoned  with  himself  upon  the  spot.  "This 


HOP  FUN.  135 

man  is,  they  say,  very  rich.  Like  a  turtle,  he  can  repose 
within  his  shell  in  peace.  But  why,  then,  should  he  have 
come  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  Too  muchee  fast ! "  the  mandarin  repeated,  coming 
nearer  to  the  machine  and  its  inventor. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  the  American. 

"  Kong-fu-tse  say,  Straws  fly  ahout ;  iron  lies  still." 

It  was  said  with  a  certain  metallic  distinctness  of  articu 
lation  as  of  an  automaton,  and  with  mechanical  movement 
the  critic  walked  slowly  away. 

A  few  nights  afterward  Henry  Harris  observed  the  man 
darin  ascending  the  steps  of  the  Grand  Opera  House,  and 
was  careful  to  secure  a  seat  as  near  him  as  he  could.  Dur 
ing  the  music  and  splendor,  the  merriment  and  passion  of 
the  opera,  the  American  watched  with  interest  the  face  of 
his  neighbor.  Had  the  Chinaman  been  a  caryatid  of  stone, 
he  could  not  have  sat  more  still ;  the  notes  of  the  singers, 
the  crash  of  the  orchestra,  the  outbursts  of  applause,  break 
ing  against  him  as  "the  sea  against  rock.  He  must  have  been 
aware  none  the  less  of  the  interest  in  him  of  the  other,  for  as 
young  Harris  went  slowly  out  after  the  performance  was 
ended,  he  heard  the  automatic  words  at  his  elbow  : 

"  Too  muchee  squall  !  Kong-fu-tse  say,  The  wind  howl, 
the  ass  bray,  the  wise  man  is  hushup." 

On  inquiry  the  day  after  at  the  Bodega,  the  American 
learned,  in  addition  to  what  he  already  knew,  that  the  Chi 
naman  was  a  statesman  from  Pekin  whose  name  was  Hop 
Fun.  Notwithstanding  his  dwarfish  size  and  stolid  appear 
ance,  he  was  known  to  be  one  of  the  shrewdest  of  men. 
Certain  pirates  had  rifled  some  French  merchant  ships  near 
Peiho,  and  Hop  Fun  was  employed  by  Prince  Kung  to  settle 
with  the  French  Government  a  question  as  to  the  measure 
of  indemnity.  It  was  this,  and  not  the  Exposition,  which 
was  supposed  to  have  brought  him  to  Paris  at  that  time. 

But,  like  everybody  else,  Henry  Harris  met  too  many  re 
markable  people  every  day  to  think  again  of  the  Chinaman, 
until  one  afternoon,  when  with  his  sister  he  chanced  to  be 


136  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

standing  before  a  picture  in  the  Art  Department  of  the  Ex 
position. 

"  Yonder,"  Mary  explained  to  him,  pointing  to  figures  in 
the  background  of  the  painting,  "  is  Egistheus,  who  has  sup 
planted  Agamemnon  in  the  affections  of  Clytemnestra,  his 
wife.  That  is  the  false  woman  beside  him.  This  girl  who 
is  advancing  toward  us  is  Electra.  She  has  been  treated  as 
a  slave  during  the  absence  of  Agamemnon,  her  father,  and 
she  knows  that  her  wicked  mother  intends  to  kill  Agamem 
non  upon  his  return  from  the  siege  of  Troy.  You  can  read 
her  horror  in  her  face.  See  her  dilated  eyes  :  she  sees  in  the 
future  the  murder  of  her  father,  then  the  coming  of  her  bro 
ther  Orestes,  who  is  to  slay  Clytemnestra,  then  the  pur 
suit  of  him  by  the  Furies.  What  a  face  she  has  !  She 
sees — " 

"  Woman  see  too  muchee ! "  a  voice  remarked  by  their 
side.  "  Kong-fu-tse  say,  Man  see  enough  for  both  ;  let 
woman  remain  blind,"  and  Henry  Harris  did  not  need  to  look 
around  to  know  that  it  was  Hop  Fun  who  had  spoken. 

To  his  surprise,  his  sister  turned  toward  the  mandarin 
and  said  :  "  When  Shuh-leang-ho,  the  father  of  Kong-fu-tse, 
died,  it  was  his  mother  Yan-she  who  ti'ained  him  from  the 
time  he  was  three  years  old." 

The  face  of  Hop  Fun  was  as  that  of  a  mummy  still,  but 
his  rat-like  eyes  glittered. 

"  Kong-fu-tse  mourned  for  her  three  full  years.  But," 
he  replied,  "  when  he  taught  in  the  Kingdom  of  Lu,  it  was 
ithe  coming  of  a  junkful  of  women  that  drove  him  away. 
Too  muchee  women  !  "  And  he  shook  his  grave  head  and 
walked  off. 

"  He  reminds  me,"  Mary  Harris  laughed,  "  of  the  little 
wooden  Noah  in  a  toy  ark.  And  his  name  is  Hop  Fun.  I 
would  as  soon  expect  the  statue  yonder  to  hop ;  as  to  any 
thing  resembling  fun — " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  her  brother  replied,  "  but  would  not  be 
surprised  if  he  has  many  a  laugh,  perhaps  sheds  many  a  tear, 
underneath  the  green  silk  of  his  robes  and  the  yellow  parch- 


HOP  FUN.  137 

ment  of  his  face.  I  am  told  that  he  is  quite  hospitable.  He 
is  said  to  be  kind  to  the  poor,  is  he  not,  Ishra  Dhass  ?  " 

The  American  addressed  this  question  to  the  Hindoo, 
who  chanced  to  be  near  them,  and  who  had  witnessed  the 
brief  scene. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  Ishra  Dhass  replied  instantly  ;  "  but 
Hop  Fun  is  the  mandarin  who  assisted  Yung  Wing." 

"  Young  Wing  ?  "  echoed  the  American  ;  "  some  orphan 
child,  I  suppose  ?  " 

There  was  a  flash  of  surprise  across  the  swarthy  face  of 
the  Brahmin,  but  it  gave  place  the  next  instant  to  his  habit 
ual  good-humor.  "I  thought  you  knew,"  he  said.  "I 
thought  every  American  knew  about  Yung,  not  young,  Wing. 
Yet,"  he  interrupted  himself,  "  Wing  was  young  when  he 
began.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Harris,  Hop  Fun  desires  to  find 
your  father  ?  I  think  he  already  knows  that  you  are  George 
Harris's  son.  If  you  are  invited  to  dine  with  him,  would 
you  come  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  would,"  the  other  replied. 

"  And  not  be  afraid  of  having  to  partake  of  stewed  kit 
tens,  salted  earthworms,  and  the  like  ?"  demanded  the  jolly 
Hindoo,  for  that  word  only  can  express  the  cordial,  laughing 
good-fellowship  of  the  Brahmin. 

"  I  will  gladly  risk  it.  I  overheard  an  indiscreet  Eng 
lishman  asking  Hop  Fun  at  the  Bodega  in  regard  to  bird- 
nest  soup,"  Henry  Harris  replied,  "  but  the  mandarin,  with 
out  moving  a  muscle,  responded,  '  At  least,  Chinaman  no  eat 
oyster,  insides  and  all.'  " 

"  There  are  several  of  us,"  the  Brahmin  continued,  "  who 
dine  with  Hop  Fun  quite  soon.  If  I  can  manage  it,  I  will 
secure  you  an  invitation.  You  shall  hear  about  Yung  Wing 
there.  Oh,  as  to  China,"  Ishra  Dhass  added,  in  his  rapid  and 
lively  manner,  "they  invented  printing,  as  you  are  aware. 
Well,  they  practice  it  on  the  grandest  scale  in  the  world.  In 
this  way  :  Kong-fu-tse — Confucius  you  call  him — died  four 
hundred  and  seventy-nine  years  before  Christ  was  born.  He 
left  nine  books  of  doctrine,  as  you  know,  which  constitute 


138  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  entire  literature  of  the  empire.  Every  child  is  compelled 
to  read  part,  at  least,  of  these  classics,  as  they  are  styled. 
The  whole  of  China  was,  within  a  hundred  years  after  Kong- 
fu-tse's  death,  cast  into  the  mold  of  his  teaching.  That  gen 
eration  was  like  a  set  of  type  ;  each  of  the  seventy-odd  gen 
erations  since  is  merely  an  exact  copy  struck  off  from  that. 
China  is  to-day  the  same  China  it  was  twenty-three  hundred 
years  ago.  The  only  thing  that  ever  changes  in  all  the 
empire  is  the  river  Hoang-ho,  which  alters  its  course  so 
often  that  it  is  named  the  '  Sorrow  of  China.'  Hop  Fun  is 
the  living  duplicate  of  many  score  ancestral  Hop  Funs  going 
before.  Except,"  and  the  Hindoo  paused,  "  for  that,  China 
has  known  no  change,  no,  not  a  particle,  except  for — " 

"For  English  intervention  in  the  last  century,"  Mary 
Harris  supplied  ;  "  and  Kong-f u-tse  taught,  did  he  not,  exclu 
sively  as  to  the  duty  of  man  to  man  ?  "  she  added. 

"Exclusively.  He  warned  the  Chinese  not  to  interest 
themselves  in  anything  beyond  that.  You  are  fond  of 
machinery,  Mr.  Harris,"  the  Hindoo  continued  ;  "  you  ought 
to  like  Hop  Fun  and  his  people.  Click,  clack  ;  it  is  nothing 
but  machinery  in  China.  From  Thibet  to  the  Yellow  Sea, 
from  the  South  Sea  to  the  Great  Wall,  the  four  hundred  and 
twenty  millions  concern  themselves  about  this  world  exclu 
sively.  Taouism,  like  Buddhism,  is  stone  dead  there,  and 
nothing  has  taken  its  place  so  far.  An  empire — the  largest 
on  earth — of  atheists  !  Think  of  that.  But,"  and  the  face 
of  the  Brahmin,  always  so  full  of  vivacity,  became  luminous 
as  he  added,  "  it  will  not  be  so  for  ever  ;  the  sun  has  always 
arisen  in  the  East ;  it  is  about  to  arise  again.  Ah  ! "  he 
added,  with  almost  the  abrupt  frankness  of  a  spoiled  boy, 
"  as  soon  as  I  said  that,  your  faces  turned  cold  and  solemn. 
That  is  always  the  way  with  you  Christians  of  Europe  and 
America.  Your  churches  are  vast  vaults,  damp,  dark,  and 
ah,  how  chilly  !  And  that,"  with  a  shiver,  "  is  like  your 
Christianity.  Now,  when  I  think  of  Christ,  it  makes  me  glad 
all  over,  like  going  into  the  sun." 

Henry  Harris  and  his  sister  had  come  to  know,  with  all 


THE  ARTISTS.  139 

who  knew  the  Hindoo,  in  what  direction  his  joyous  talk  was 
certain  to  run.  But,  like  everybody  else,  they  did  not  ob 
ject  to  it  at  all,  he  was  so  bright  and  mirthful. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   ARTISTS. 

IT  was  not  long  after  his  visit  to  the  old  artist  that  Henry 
Harris  found  himself  again  in  his  company.  It  was,  how 
ever,  under  different  and  more  favorable  circumstances. 
Zerah  Atchison  and  his  daughter  had  secured  rooms  nearer 
to  the  Exposition  and  in  more  accessible  quarters.  When 
the  American  and  his  sister  arrived  by  appointment,  they 
were  shown  upstairs  to  the  outer  door  of  an  apartment  which 
was  given  wholly  to  artistic  purposes.  Mr.  Atchison  had 
covered  the  walls  with  some  of  his  best  attempts  in  oil-  and 
water-painting,  as  well  as  wood-carving,  and  was  so  seated 
upon  a  chair  made  for  the  purpose  that  his  paralyzed  right 
arm  was  comfortably  supported,  while  he  wrought  with  his 
left  at  a  picture  upon  which  he  was  engaged.  He  had  al 
ways  seemed  so  patient  that,  although  his  surroundings  were 
changed,  he  was  the  same. 

This  could  not  be  said  of  his  daughter,  who  was  at  work, 
in  paper  cap  and  coarse  apron,  at  a  mass  of  clay  upon  a  stand 
near  by.  It  was  evident  that  she  was  perplexed  as  she  toiled. 
Standing  first  to  the  right  of  it  and  then  to  the  left,  she 
would  examine  her  work,  her  head  upon  one  side,  now  draw 
ing  back,  then  going  nearer.  But  it  always  ended  as  it  had 
done  during  months  of  labor  before  ;  she  would  make  a  dart 
at  the  offending  clay  and  scoop  out  here,  fill  in  there,  round 
ing  out  one  curve,  obliterating  another. 

"  Stand  aside,  Isidore,"  her  father  said  at  last,  and  she 
did  so,  her  hands  dropped,  and  her  air  that  of  a  prisoner  who 
already  knows  the  verdict.  Holding  his  brush  arrested  in 


140  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

his  hand,  her  father  examined  her  work  with  a  critical  air. 
After  a  while  his  daughter  looked  up  to  see  that,  without  a 
word,  he  was  painting  again,  his  face  as  nobly  patient  as 
before.  It  had  often  occurred,  but  the  poor  girl  dropped 
more  than  one  tear  upon  the  clay  as,  under  pretense  of 
work,  she  bowed  beside  it  again,  her  face  so  that  her  father 
could  not  see. 

"  Do  not  be  discouraged,  Isidore,"  he  observed,  quietly  ; 
"  although  you  do  not  get  it  from  me,  you  have  genius, 
and—" 

But  there  was  at  this  moment  a  knock  at  the  door.  The 
girl,  throwing  a  wet  cloth  over  her  work,  darted  through  an 
opening  into  her  own  room,  and  Henry  Harris  came  in  with 
his  sister.  Hardly  had  he  introduced  her  to  the  old  artist, 
when  Lord  Conyngham  also  arrived,  accompanied  by  Lady 
Blanche  and  an  insignificant-looking  gentleman.  When  he 
was  introduced  to  the  old  painter  as  the  Duke  of  Plymouth, 
the  artist  gave  him  a  rapid  glance.  He  was  about  forty 
years  of  age,  had  thin  hair,  a  feeble  whisker,  and  somehow 
his  whole  manner  partook  of  the  hue  of  his  eyes  and  com 
plexion,  which  were  of  an  undecided,  almost  watery,  hue. 
During  the  whole  visit  he  hardly  opened  his  lips,  and  then 
only  to  echo  what  was  said  by  those  who  came  with  him,  in 
a  genteel  but  almost  inarticulate  murmur.  The  principal  im 
pression  produced  by  him  was  astonishment  that  such  a  man 
should  be  a  duke,  and  he  was  uneasy  of  eye  and  of  manner, 
as  if  he  knew  what  people  were  thinking  of  him. 

Isidore  Atchison  soon  returned,  and  for  some  time  all 
present  were  engaged  in  examining  the  carvings  and  paint 
ings.  Many  flattering  things  were  said,  but  it  was  in  regard 
to  the  carving  that  most  interest  was  awakened. 

"I  have  never  seen  better  in  my  life,"  Lady  Blanche  said; 
"  and  I,  Mr.  Atchison,"  she  added,  turning  to  him  with  a 
smile,  "  am  considered  something  of  a  judge.  Those  camellias 
are  perfect,  so  are  those  japonicas.  Your  work  is  wonder 
fully  good." 

The  old  artist  smiled  ;  "  I  am  more,  alas  !  of  a  critic  than 


THE  ARTISTS,  141 

a  skilled  workman,"  he  said.  "  When  I  was  young  I  had 
passionate  desires  after  excellence.  I  even  hoped,  almost 
believed,  that  I  could  attain  to  it.  But  I  have  learned  bet 
ter  long  ago.  With  me  the  critical  faculty  is  too  strong  for 
the  creative.  I  have  the  keenest  instinct  as  to  what  is  and 
as  to  what,  alas  !  is  not  good  painting,  an  instinct  so  just  and 
keen  that  I  rate  my  work  more  harshly,  because  more  accu 
rately,  than  any  other  person.  My  poor  pictures  will  never 
compete  with  Titian  or  Rubens."  It  was  said  with  a  con 
tented  smile. 

"  They  are  very  good,"  Lord  Conyngham  said,  with  a 
glance  around  the  room  ;  "  but  as  to  your  carving  now,  sin 
cerely,  it  is  extraordinary  !  " 

"  It  certainly  is,"  Lady  Blanche  confirmed  her  brother. 
"  It  is  so  good  that  we  are  under  great  obligations  to  Mr. 
Harris  for  telling  us  of  it ;  and  I  hope,  Mr.  Atchison,  that 
you  will  let  me  have  this  panel  of  grapes,  this  cluster  of 
roses,"  pointing  each  article  out  as  she  said  it,  "and  this 
charming  confusion  of  violets  and  pansies  upon  a  salver." 

The  Duke  of  Plymouth  murmured  his  approval  of  her 
choice. 

"  It  is  really  remarkable  " — the  old  man  leaned  his  white 
head  back  in  his  chair  as  he  said  it — "  but  my  life  ever  since 
I  can  remember  has  been  given  to  painting  instead.  You 
would  never  believe  how  ardent  I  once  was,  how  enthusias 
tic,  how  almost  desperately  I  hoped  and  toiled  from  dawn  to 
dusk  at  drawing  and  painting.  I  would  surpass  every  other 
American  artist,  at  least,  or  die  in  the  attempt !  All  that," 
he  added,  with  an  unclouded  face,  "  is  over  and  gone.  It  is 
only  since  the  paralysis  of  my  arm  that  I  have  tried  to  carve. ' 
I  am  a  rigid  critic,  as  I  said,  and  my  work  of  that  kind  is 
good,  but  it  astonished  me  more  than  any  one  else.  Yes, 
the  best  things,  the  grandest  things  descend  to  us  like  air 
and  sunshine,  apart  from  ourselves,  from—:-"  He  only 
smiled  and  was  silent.  What  he  added  to  himself  was, 
"  from  the  Father  of  light,  from  whom  is  every  good  and 
perfect  gift." 


142  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  My  mother  likes  you  in  marble,"  Mary  Harris  said  to 
the  artist,  as  she  was  leaving;  "I  will  tell  her  how  much 
more  she  will  like  you  in  person."  But  at  that  moment 
Lord  Conyngham  was  entreating  Isidore  Atchison  to  allow 
him  to  see  her  work  upon  the  stand.  In  her  flight  from  the 
room  she  had  covered  it,  as  has  been  said,  and  now  stood 
defending  it  with  laughing  face  but  determined  hands. 

"  No,  my  lord,"  she  repeated,  "  no  one  shall  see  it,  shall 
ever  see  it  ! " 

"  You  had  better  desist,  sir,"  the  father  said ;  "  she  is 
shielding  you  from  sorrow." 

"  O  father,  how  can  you  ! "  His  daughter  was  so  sin 
cere  in  her  exclamation  that  the  others  looked  at  her  with 
surprise,  and  then  laughed,  and  with  many  kind  words  they 
withdrew. 

"And  now,  father?"  Isidore  asked,  as  their  steps  died 
upon  the  stairway. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  the  artist  answered,  as  if  in  accord 
ance  with  an  agreement  going  before,  "  I  would  have  done 
as  you  wished  without  your  asking.  If  you  had  implored 
me  not  to  do  so,  I  could  no  more  have  helped  playing  the 
critic  in  regard  to  them  than  I  could  refrain  from  breathing; 
it  is  the  habit  of  my  life  as  well  as  an  unconquerable  instinct. 
You  can  catechise  me  while  I  work,"  and  he  resumed  his 
brush  and  palette,  the  latter  being  a  fixture  upon  the  arm  of 
his  chair.  "Shall  I  begin  with  the  Duke  of  Dundreary,  was 
it  not  ?  But  I  ought  not  to  say  that,"  he  corrected  himself. 

His  daughter  dismissed  his  Grace  with  a  laughing  ges 
ture. 

"  Lord  Conyngham  ?  "  She  put  the  question,  leaning  upon 
the  stand,  which  remained  hidden  beneath  its  cloth. 

"  Well,  he  is  above  the  average  of  his  class,"  came  the 
reply.  "He  is  of  the  best  material  of  English  manhood, 
healthful,  truthful,  brave,  despising  all  meanness.  His  de 
fects  are  perfectly  natural  also,  but  as  external  to  himself  as 
his  coat.  But  he  is  in  process  toward  as  exclusive  a  belief 
in  his  rank  and  himself  as  can  be.  When  he  is  Earl  Dor- 


THE  ARTISTS.  143 

rington  he  will — so  far  as  the  times  allow — be  the  old  Earl 
over  again,  unless,  indeed,  the  times  clothe  themselves  in  the 
person  of — well,  my  dear,  of  Miss  Mary  Harris." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  his  daughter  said,  with  astonish 
ment  of  eyes  and  uplifted  hand. 

"  No,  Isidore,  I  do  not  think  so  ;  that  is  not  the  word — I 
know  so  ;  know  so  as  I  know  the  stamens,  petals,  subtilest 
curve  and  veining  of  the  flower  I  happen  to  be  carving. 
The  young  nobleman  loves  her  because  he  has  an  instinctive 
sense  of  the  fact  that  she  is  the  one  woman  of  all  the  sex 
who  can  take  him  as  you  would  take  clay,  and  make  him 
what  he  should  be.  Miss  Harris  is,  in  a  womanly  way,  the 
stronger  of  the  two  ;  neither  of  them  look  at  it  in  that  way, 
of  course,  but  she  loves  him  because  she  is  blindly  conscious 
that  she  is  necessary  to  him.  They  will  both  be  miserable 
unless  they  marry  each  other ;  miserable  whoever  else  they 
may  wed,  because  each  will  know  that  he  or  she  has  done 
wrong  in  not  obeying  their  deepest  instincts." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  Lady  Blanche  ?  "  his  daugh 
ter  asked.  There  was  so  much  of  serious  meaning  in  her 
father's  tones,  also,  that  she  hesitated  long  before  asking. 

"  Isidore,"  the  artist  replied,  as  he  worked,  "  let  me  tell 
you  a  little  story.  Once  upon  a  time,  three  goddesses  strove 
together  for  the  prize  of  beauty.  They  were  Minerva,  Juno, 
and—" 

"  Why,  father,  I  have  known  the  story  all  my  life,"  his 
daughter  interrupted. 

"  And  Venus,"  the  old  artist  continued.  "  Minerva  was 
the  beauty  of  wisdom  ;  Juno,  the  beauty  of  power  ;  Venus, 
the  loveliness  of  love.  Do  you  understand  what  I  would  say 
now  ?  " 

"  You  think—" 

"Not  think — know"  the  other  interrupted  her,  with  a 
smile. 

"  That  Mary  Harris  has  the  charm  of  wisdom  ?  Yes,  you 
are  always  right,  father.  That  is  the  way  in  which,  without 
defining  it  to  myself,  she  impressed  me  at  first.  Her  brow 
7 


144:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

is  low  and  wide,  her  eyes  deep  and  pure  and  steady  ;  her 
manner,  her  tones,  her  silence.  Yes,  she  is  Minerva  ;  only  a 
more  purely  womanly  Pallas  than  her  of  the  owl  and  helmet. 
Then,  Lady  Blanche  is — "  but  the  speaker  hesitated,  with  a 
look  of  trouble  upon  her  face  as  well  as  perplexity,  "  is  Ve 
nus,  father  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not — is  Juno  !  and  her  chariot  is  drawn  by 
peacocks  ;  it  always  is,  yes."  The  old  artist  paused  from 
his  painting,  and  looked  up  as  if  he  saw  the  proud  English 
girl  as  he  spoke.  "  Yes,  Lady  Blanche,"  he  said,  "  you  are 
the  goddess  of  power,  of  pride.  You  come  of  high  lineage, 
of  the  oldest  and  best  of  the  English,  which  is  by  far  the 
noblest  nobility  in  the  world.  Power  !  Pride  !  You  have 
more  than  your  brother,  for  you  are  superior  to  him  as  you 
are  to  the  old  Earl,  your  father.  You  are  Juno  in  your 
very  soul.  Even  in  the  Christian  heaven  I  do  not  see 
how  you  can  cease  to  be  a  beautiful  but  heathen  Juno  for 
ever  !  Isidore,"  the  artist  said,  abruptly,  "  Diana  may  love 
Endymion,  Venus  may  love  Adonis,  but  Juno  ?  Juno  can 
never  love  any  other  than  one  of  the  immortal  gods  ;  with 
her  it  must  be  Jupiter  or  no  one  !  Lady  Blanche,"  the  artist 
ended,  with  a  laugh,  "  your  Majesty  being  a  queen,  can  marry 
only  a  king." 

But  Isidore  had  turned  from  her  father,  and  was  taking 
the  cloth  off  from  her  work.  Her  hands  trembled,  her  color 
came  and  went. 

"  Do  you  wish  my  critical  opinion  as  to  young  Mr.  Har 
ris  ?  "  her  father  demanded,  in  graver  accents. 

"  No,"  his  daughter  said,  with  great  indifference  of  man 
ner.  "  I  can  not  say  that  I  do,  father,"  she  added,  looking 
with  marked  despair  at  her  work.  "I  have  been  think 
ing—" 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  say  something  as  to  who 
is  Venus,  my  dear,"  he  added,  with  malicious  accent. 

But  Isidore  was  saying,  with  scornful  eyes,  to  her  work, 
"  You  horrid  old  lady  !  Do  you  suppose  that  I  am  to  be 
your  slave  for  ever  ?  Look  at  yourself  in  the  glass,  now,  do  !  " 


THE  ARTISTS.  145 

The  old  painter  could  not  refrain  from  laughing.  The 
head  was  a  well-executed  conception  of  Sorrow  ;  massive, 
stern,  sepulchral,  exceedingly  well  done,  but  it  had  never 
satisfied  the  father,  much  less  his  daughter.  Isidore  was 
holding  a  hand-mirror  before  the  sad  eyes  of  the  clay  image. 
"  Only  look  at  yourself  ! "  the  girl  said,  derisively  ;  "  you 
flattered  yourself  that  you  were  going  to  be  a  good  wife,  did 
you,  for  Pluto  ?  Aspired,  did  you,  to  be  Proserpine  ?  Inso 
lent  thing  !  "  And  before  her  father  could  prevent,  the  ex 
cited  girl  had  boxed  the  ears  of  the  astonished  Sorrow. 

"Isidore!" 

It  was  in  vain  he  cried  out ;  the  girl  seized  upon  and 
twisted  off  first  the  nose  and  then  the  ears  and  chin  of  the 
image,  dropping  them  at  her  feet.  Then,  with  hands  rapid 
and  energetic,  she  kneaded  the  face  and  head  into  a  shape 
less  lump,  and  turned  defiantly  toward  her  father. 

"  Isidore  !  my  child,"  he  exclaimed,  and  a  sudden  and 
pathetic  sadness  clouded  his  usual  serenity,  as  he  saw  how 
her  cheeks  glowed,  her  eye  sparkled. 

"  Never  mind,  father,"  she  said.  "  I  know  what  I  am 
about.  You  remember  how  hard  I  have  worked  at  this  odious 
creature.  For  all  I  could  do,  for  all  you  could  suggest,  she 
only  became,  not  sorrowful,  only  miserable,  basely,  degraded- 
ly  miserable.  I  could  not  do  it  !  But  I  had  no  other  con 
ception  before.  Now  I  have  another,  a  better.  But  it  is 
not  of  Sorrow.  I  see  it  as  clearly  before  me  as  if  I  had  fin 
ished  it.  O  father,  it  will  be  a  success,  I  know — my  greatest 
success  !  Wait,  and  you  will  see." 

Her  father  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  He  had  not  sup 
posed  she  could  seem  so  beautiful.  She  turned  from  him 
and  went  to  work  with  eager  hands  upon  the  clay  ;  but  the 
painter  said  nothing  as  he  plied  his  brush.  Another  and  a 
higher  patience  sat  upon  his  face,  but  a  tear  none  the  less 
trickled  down  his  cheek. 

"  What  was  Mr.  Harris  saying  to  you  ?  "  he  asked,  after 
they  had  both  worked  for  quite  a  long  time  in  silence.  Al 
though  he  could  not  see  his  daughter's  face,  the  sharp-sighted 


146  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

old  artist  saw  that  her  neck  had  a  rosier  hue  as  she  replied  : 
"  Nothing  in  particular,  sir." 

Her  father  said  no  more,  and  the  patient  endurance 
burned  in  a  soft,  steady  flame  in  his  eyes  as  he  continued 
to  work. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE     NEW     CHINESE. 

ISHEA  DHASS  GUNGA,  the  popular  Brahmin,  found  no 
difficulty  in  securing  for  Henry  Harris  an  invitation  to  dine 
with  Hop  Fun,  the  mandarin,  not  many  days  after  he  had 
given  his  promise  to  that  effect.  In  fact,  the  Chinese  was 
the  first  to  mention  it  to  the  Hindoo.  Russia  was  too  near 
to  China,  and  the  services  of  George  Harris  in  the  shops  of 
the  Czar  had  been  too  great,  for  the  intelligent  though 
dwarfish  Chinese  statesmen  not  to  have  heard  of  him.  There 
was  no  telling  what  need  China  itself  might  not  have  for  at 
least  the  son,  in  the  engineering  of  the  future. 

"  Harris  he  velly  muchee  man,"  the  mandarin  explained 
to  the  Brahmin,  and  then  proceeded  to  acknowledge  that 
heretofore  his  countrymen  would  not  endure  a  railway  in 
any  part  of  the  Flowery  Kingdom.  Not  only  did  they 
abhor  the  outer  barbarians  with  all  their  inventions  ;  the 
rails  must  be  laid  across  the  dust  of  generations  of  their 
worshiped  ancestors,  and  that  every  precept  in  their  Book  of 
Rites  forbade.  Thus  far,  the  regent,  Prince  Kung  himself, 
was  as  powerless  to  grant  concessions  of  the  kind  as  the 
young  emperor  would  be  when  he  reached  the  plenitude  of 
his  power.  But  Hop  Fun  closed  both  of  his  little  eyes  when 
he  told  the  Hindoo  of  this,  and  with  a  face  like  a  stone  wall 
added,  "  Kong-fu-tse  say,  '  Fools  reach  end  before  they  set 
out  on  journey,  wise  men  wait  for  by-and-by.' " 

"  The  truth  is,"  Ishra  Dhass  remarked  to  young  Harris, 
as  upon  the  appointed  day  they  rode  together  in  a  carriage 


THE  NEW  CHINESE. 

sent  for  them  by  Hop  Fun,  "  that  a  vast  change  impends 
over  China,  as  over  all  nations.  You  have  read  De  Tocque- 
ville,  Mr.  Harris  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  American  looked  at 
the  happy  countenance  of  his  swarthy  companion,  thinking, 
"  Who  would  have  supposed  that  a  Hindoo  cared  for  such 
things  ?  " 

"  Then  you  will  remember  with  what  awe,"  the  other 
continued,  "  the  Frenchman  speaks  of  -the  day  when  your 
republic  will  stand,  in  the  fullness  of  its  prosperity  and 
power,  upon  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  threatening  Japan  and 
China.  De  Tocqueville  prophesied  inevitable  war  and  con 
quest.  True,  but  what  a  conquest ! "  added  the  Hindoo, 
with  animation.  "Learned  as  the  author  was  in  the  his 
tory  of  all  nations,  he  had  no  conception  that  the  conquests 
of  America  were  to  be  intellectual,  moral,  spiritual !  My 
friend,"  the  Brahmin  said,  with  pitying  eyes,  "  even  you 
have  slight  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  your  own  America.  A 
nation  made  up  of  some  fifty  nations,  present  and  prospec 
tive,  yet  one,  one  republic,  unparalleled  in  history !  Hail 
Columbia ! " 

Although  the  Oriental  laughed,  he  was  in  serious  earnest. 
Then  his  face  clouded.  "  Your  nation  exists  because  of  your 
Christianity.  At  last,"  he  added,  "  and  for  that  reason,  your 
republic  stands  with  its  face  toward  Asia.  The  race,  start 
ing  from  its  birthplace  therein,  has  made  its  long,  slow,  and 
sorrowful  journey  around  the  planet,  and  is  getting  back 
again  to  the  point  from  which  it  set  out.  Has  not  the  race 
its  orbit  also  as  well  as  the  globe  ?  Originating  in  Asia,  the 
path  of  history  struck  through  Europe,  and  so  across  the  At 
lantic  to  the  eastern  shores  of  your  continent.  From  James 
town  and  Plymouth  across  the  hemisphere  to  San  Diego  and 
San  Francisco,  the  sublime  circle  is  completed.  Young,  rich, 
powerful,  having  ended  the  long  travel  of  man  and  of  the 
earth,  you  have  got  back  at  last  to  Asia  once  more  ?  Well, 
Asia,  Europe  has  nothing  to  tell  you  which  you  do  not 
know  already  in  regard  to  politics,  art,  science,  but — "  and 


148  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  Hindoo  looked  at  his  companion  with,  only  less  pity 
than  he  would  have  bestowed  upon  a  worshiper  of  the  cow 
or  the  crocodile  in  his  own  land. 

"You  are  always  underrating  our  Christianity,"  Henry 
Harris  complained.  "  Frankly,  once  and  for  all,  what  do 
mean?" 

"Mean?"  the  other  said,  indignantly.  "Fifteen  hun 
dred  years  after  Moses,  Christ  came  to  the  Hebrews,  and 
what  did  he  find  ?  A  petrified  formalism.  Because  you  are 
not  Catholic  you  say  it  is  not  so  of  you.  My  friend,"  and 
the  other  lifted  up  a  warning  finger,  "  suppose  the  Christ 
who  walked  the  fields  and  streets  of  Syria  were  to  come  to 
even  Protestantdom  to-day,  the  living  Christ,  the  truthful 
Christ,  what  would  he  find  ?  Oh  !  the  complicated  " — and 
even  the  voluble  Brahmin  hesitated  for  a  word,  "  yes,"  he 
added,  "  the  complicated  catacombs  of  mere  profession.  Do 
you  believe  you  live,  do  you  love,  as  he  says  you  must  ?  " 
Once  started,  the  Hindoo  launched  into  such  detail  of  short 
coming  among  Christians  as  caused  the  American  to  wince. 
Yet  for  his  life  he  could  not  deny  a  word  of  it.  "  I,  too,  am 
the  weakest  of  the  weak,"  Ishra  Dhass  added,  "but  mission 
aries  will  tell  you  that  when  the  heathen  do  accept  their 
message,  the  one  person  they  believe  in  is  the  living,  loving 
Christ,  as  he  was  to  Peter  and  to  John.  That  is  all,  and  that 
is  enough  !  I  despair  of  making  you  understand  !  " 

There  was  something  in  the  manner,  too,  of  the  Brah 
min  which  struck  the  young  man.  He  had  lingered  in  the 
Invalides  the  day  before  to  talk  with  one  or  two  of  the  old 
Imperial  Guard,  but  Ishra  Dhass  had  an  enthusiasm  for  his 
Emperor  beyond  anything  Henry  Harris  had  been  thrilled  by 
among  the  old  moustaches  of  the  first  Napoleon.  This  Em 
peror  was  alive,  was  landing  upon  the  globe  from  his  Elba, 
his  St.  Helena,  for  eternal  conquest,  and  the  Brahmin  had 
the  radiant  certainty  in  regard  to  him  of  a  joyous  child. 

"  But  what  is  it,"  his  companion  demanded,  "  that  you 
intended  telling  me  about  Yung  "Wing  ?  " 

"  It  is  soon  told,"  was  the  reply.     "  Over  forty  years  ago 


THE  NEW  CHINESE.  149 

a  Chinese  boy  was  educated  in  an  American  household  ;  but 
he  did  not  become  a  missionary.  He  had  an  idea.  Return 
ing  to  China,  he  studied  hard,  qualified  himself  for  diplomatic 
service,  obtained  access  to  officials  of  the  empire.  When  the 
Tiensin  massacre  was  to  be  paid  for,  he  was  the  only  China 
man  capable  of  conferring  with  the  agents  of  European  gov 
ernments.  He  was  made  a  mandarin,  and  talked  to  Hop 
Fun,  our  host  of  to-day,  until  he  very  slowly  came  to  com 
prehend  and  accept  the  life-long  idea  of  Yung  Wing.  Seven 
years  it  took  to  accomplish  that.  Just  as  Hop  Fun  was 
getting  at  the  Chinese  Government  to  begin  the  task  of 
making  them  understand  it,  the  mother  of  Hop  Fun  died, 
and  for  three  years  he  had  to  retire  from  Pekin  and  weep. 
His  tears  and  his  appointed  years  of  grief  being  exhausted, 
Hop  Fun  secured  at  last  the  consent  of  the  throne,  and  a 
certain  number  of  the  choicest  youths  in  China  were  selected 
by  competitive  examination,  and  sent  under  the  care  of  Yung 
Wing  to  America  to  be  educated,  nearly  two  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  being  appropriated  for  that  purpose.  Yung 
Wing  is  assistant  minister  from  China  at  Washington.  In 
ten  years  more  there  will  be,  therefore,  many  score  of  Chi 
nese  like  himself  in  the  empire,  educated  Christians.  Even 
Hop  Fun  knows,"  the  Hindoo  added,  "that  the  end  has 
nearly  arrived  with  his  ancient  civilization.  Very  soon  it 
must  pass  under  the  scepter  of  Russia,  or  England,  or — 
Christ ! " 

But  there  was  not  an  atom  of  cant  in  the  Hindoo.  Henry 
Harris  could  as  soon  have  charged  hypocrisy  upon  Damon 
trusting  in  Pythias  ;  upon  Clitus,  rather,  exulting  in  Alex 
ander  the  Great. 

By  this  time  the  carriage  had  arrived  at  the  hotel  in 
which  Hop  Fun  had  established  his  home.  With  a  great 
deal  of  ceremony,  the  two  were  conducted  to  a  suite  of  rooms 
fitted  up  in  Chinese  fashion,  with  lanterns,  screens,  lacquered 
seats,  and  costly  cabinets,  embroidered  curtains  of  heavy 
silk,  and  cases  of  curiosities  in  rock  crystal  and  ivory.  There 
were  carvings  dispersed  about  the  gorgeous  apartments  which 


150  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

would  have  awakened  the  interest,  if  not  the  admiration,  of 
Zerah  Atchison  ;  paintings,  also,  from  which  he  would  have 
recoiled  with  artistic  horror.  Between  two  tall  vases  of  blue 
porcelain  from  Pekin  stood  the  handsomest  gift  Hop  Fun 
had  ever  received,  a  coffin  of  rosewood,  with  silver  mount 
ings,  and  lined  with  crimson  silk,  by  which  Prince  Kung, 
Regent  of  China,  had  expressed  his  sincere  esteem  for  the 
statesman  in  the  most  grateful  way  known  among  the  Chinese. 
Everywhere  were  displayed  the  wings  and  claws,  the  red 
ravening  mouth  and  interminable  tail,  of  the  Chinese  dragon. 
"The  old  serpent,"  Ishra  Dhass  whispered  to  his  friend, 
"  who  has  had  his  coils  about  China  for  four  thousand  years. 
But  his  day  is  nearly  over." 

In  Paris,  especially  during  the  Exposition,  people  took 
any  and  every  thing  as  a  matter  of  course,  and,  after  paying 
his  respects  to  Hop  Fun,  who  was  arrayed  in  silks  of  bril 
liant  colors,  Henry  Harris  looked  about  him.  Hassan  Pasha 
was  conferring,  upon  one  side  of  the  room,  with  a  man  of 
extraordinary  appearance. 

"  It  is  a  nephew,"  Ishra  Dhass  explained  to  him,  "  of  the 
Afghan  bandit  of  whom  you  have  heard,  Dilawur  Khan. 
Did  you  ever  see  such  a  head  ?  It  is  like  the  rugged  peak 
of  one  of  the  mountains  of  the  Khyber  Pass.  His  enormous 
nose  is  another  Afghan  peculiarity.  Napoleon  always  chose 
his  marshals  by  the  length,  you  remember,  of  that  feature  ; 
it  insured  clearness  and  force  of  intellect,  he  said,  and  he 
was  right." 

"  Who  was  Dilawur  Khan  ?  "  Henry  Harris  demanded. 

The  Brahmin  glanced  at  him  with  surprise.  "  You  ap 
pear,"  he  said,  dryly,  "  to  be  ignorant  of  several  of  the  most 
important  of  modern  heroes.  Excuse  me,  you  are  joking  ; 
you  must  know  of  him.  Dilawur  Khan  had  a  price  fixed 
upon  his  head — you  will  recall  it — by  the  British  in  India,  for 
his  savage  robberies.  He  said  he  might  as  well  have  the 
cash  himself,  and  so  brought  it  into  camp  upon  his  shoulders. 
As  the  bravest  of  men,  having  enlisted  in  the  service,  he  rose 
to  the  highest  grade  a  native  can  attain  in  the  British  army, 


TEE  NEW  CHINESE.  151 

and  helped  to  put  down  the  Sepoy  rebellion.  He  would  not 
pocket  anything  at  the  storming  and  looting,  i.  e.,  plundering, 
of  Delhi.  '  Christ  would  not  like  it,'  he  said  ;  for,"  the  Brah 
min  added,  "  we  heathens  can  not  but  take  him  in  earnest,  if 
we  take  him  at  all.  You  know  the  rest ;  how  the  sincere  sav 
age,  after  he  believed,  turned  at  least  two  hundred  Moslems 
from  Mohammed.  He  seized  them  by  their  conscience  with 
his  powerful  clutch,  as  he  used  to  take  travelers  by  the 
throat,  and,  as  it  were,  made  them  believe.  The  Khan  was 
like  a  more  violent  Paul.  He  was  sent  at  last  into  Central 
Asia  upon  secret  service,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  cap 
tured  and  blown  from  a  cannon  or  martyred  in  some  way. 
His  nephew  across  the  room  is  Ali  Khan,  and  I  see  he  has 
already  laid  his  lion's  paw  upon  Hassan  Pasha,  for,  rough  and 
tremendous  as  Ali  Khan  seems,  like  his  uncle,  he  also  believes." 

"  I  recognize  a  Persian  gentleman  yonder  ;  I  think  his 
name  is  Meerut,"  the  American  said  ;  "  yes,  and  I  see  that 
the  rich  merchant  Aeout,  I  think  it  is,  of  Madagascar,  is 
present.  That  dark  individual  beside  Hop  Fun  is  an  Abys 
sinian,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  his  name  is  Cherubin  ;  a  son  of  the  king,  I  am 
told  ; "  and  the  Brahmin,  who  knew  almost  everybody,  gave 
him  the  names  and  nationalities  of  three  or  four  guests  be 
sides.  But  at  this  moment,  and  with  many  ceremonies,  the 
assembly  was  ushered  into  the  adjoining  apartment,  in  which 
dinner  awaited  them. 

"  Hop  Fun  loves  to  gather  about  him  people  of  all  na 
tions,"  Ishra  Dhass  explained,  as  he  accompanied  his  friend. 
"  Although  he  speaks  only  to  quote  Kong-fu-tse,  he  loves  to 
have  his  guests  express  themselves  with  perfect  freedom. 
All  present  understand  enough  English  to  make  themselves 
agreeable,  and  at  times  disagreeable,"  the  Hindoo  laughed. 
"  You  will  not  be  surprised  at  whatever  you  may  hear  ;  you 
are  among  heathens,  you  know.  Europeans  and  Americans 
constitute  but  a  small  part  of  the  population  of  the  globe. 
The  rest  of  the  race  are  cannibals.  You  may  find  yourself 
part  of  our  repast.  Look  out  ! " 


152  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A   CHINESE  REPAST. 

WHEN  Henry  Harris  was  seated  at  the  richly  furnished 
board  of  the  Chinese  statesman,  he  glanced  sharply  about 
him.  He  was  glad  to  find  that  Ishra  Dhass  had  the  seat  next 
to  him  upon  his  right,  while  Hassan  Pasha  was  placed  upon 
his  left.  Immediately  across  the  table  from  him,  Hop  Fun 
presided — but  at  the  lower,  because  least  honorable,  part  of 
the  table — while  the  other  guests  were  ranged  up  and  down 
upon  either  side.  The  table-cloth,  was  of  crimson  silk,  richly 
flowered,  and  each  napkin  was  a  marvel  of  embroidery. 
From  end  to  end  the  board  was,  perhaps,  overcrowded  with 
an  innumerable  quantity  of  vessels  of  glass,  porcelain,  silver, 
and  gold,  each  containing  a  very  small  quantity  of  food  or 
drink,  and  not  one  was  left  upon  the  table  by  the  crowd  of 
attendants  for  more  than  a  few  minutes.  In  fact,  it  was  as 
if  the  guests  were  seated  at  a  diversified  and  sparkling  tor 
rent  of  food  and  tableware,  so  unceasing  was  the  going  and 
coming  of  the  dishes.  To  the  surprise  of  the  American,  a 
carte,  in  French,  of  the  fare  was  laid  beside  every  plate,  so 
that  no  one  need  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  his 
food. 

But  it  was  upon  his  host  that  the  attention  of  Henry 
Harris  was  fastened  ;  as  much,  at  least,  as  politeness  would 
allow.  Although  the  mandarin  could  hardly  have  had  a 
more  immovable  face  had  he  been  carved  out  of  walnut, 
there  seemed  to  rest  upon  him  now  the  weight,  in  addition, 
of  the  world.  In  fact,  he  was  conducting  a  religious  rite. 
In  rapid  succession  a  number  of  minute  dishes  were  placed 
and  removed  from  before  Hop  Fun,  who  plied  his  chop-sticks 
rapidly,  but,  as  the  dishes  were  strictly  Chinese,  the  Ameri 
can  preferred  not  to  inspect  them  too  closely,  observing  only 
that  whales'  nerves,  fresh  tadpoles,  and  the  like,  were  part 
thereof,  and  gave  his  attention  rather  to  the  mandarin  him 
self  and  his  guests.  To  every  one  present  it  was  much  more 


A   CHINESE  REPAST.  153 

than  a  mere  dinner.  The  Brahmin  broke  caste  in  eating 
with  the  rest,  but  he  had  ruined  himself  with  his  people  by 
so  doing  long  before,  and  seemed  to  be  all  the  jollier  for  it. 
So  with  the  Mohammedan,  Hassan  Pasha.  Were  it  not  for 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  he  would  much  sooner 
have  seated  himself  upon  his  doorstep  in  Constantinople, 
and  shared  his  dinner  with  the  mangiest  cur  which  came 
along,  than  to  have  eaten  with  Ishra  Dhass,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  others.  Hindoo,  Persian,  Chinese,  Afghan,  Abyssinian, 
American,  all  felt,  however,  as  if  Paris  was  an  eventful  pa 
renthesis  in  their  lives.  Each  was  but  a  grain  of  corn  caught 
between  the  whirling  millstones  of  the  time  ;  they  were  be 
ing  ground  together,  for  the  moment,  as  by  a  force  which 
revolved  the  earth  and  stars.  Since  they  were  compelled 
to  yield  to  such  undreamed-of  companionship,  they  did  it 
with  the  reckless  desperation  of  boys  who,  having  got  into 
some  frightful  mischief,  were  determined  to  rush  it  through 
with  defiant  energy. 

As  they  ate  and  drank,  the  spirits  of  all  arose.  There 
was  a  swift  circulation  of  very  small  cups  of  brandy  distilled 
from  rice.  The  cups  were  small,  but  the  contents  were  quin 
tessences,  and,  from  a  whisper,  conversation  became  loud 
and  animated.  Young  Harris  had  no  idea,  at  the  outset, 
how  closely  he  was  watched,  and  was  glad  afterward  that 
he  had  confined  himself  to  tea  and  to  a  very  small  glass  of 
wine. 

At  last  the  table  was  cleared  of  everything  except  a 
green  leaf,  laid  beside  each  plate,  having  in  the  center  a  heap 
of  salt.  Every  one  awaited  with  curiosity  for  what  was  to 
come  next.  Suddenly  a  servant  placed  in  the  center  of  the 
board  a  magnificent  tureen,  closely  covered.  Hop  Fun  lifted 
a  forefinger ;  the  cover  was  snatched  off.  The  vessel  was 
almost  filled  with  strong  vinegar,  in  which  struggled  dozens 
of  half -grown  crabs.  Eager  to  escape  the  vinegar,  the  in 
stant  the  cover  was  removed  they  swarmed  over  the  table, 
running  in  every  direction  for  dear  life.  The  American 
watched  Hop  Fun.  Without  moving  a  muscle,  winking 


154  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

even,  that  diplomate  seized,  one  after  another,  upon  such 
crabs  as  came  in  reach,  dipped  them  in  the  salt  at  his  plate, 
and  consigned  them  in  rapid  succession,  kicking  and  scram 
bling,  into  his  mouth,  which  opened  and  shut  with  the  re 
morseless  precision  of  a  nutcracker.  Several  of  his  friends 
followed  his  example,  more  liquors  were  served,  and  the  ice 
seemed  to  be  thoroughly  broken.  Even  the  mandarin  ap 
peared  to  have  relaxed.  He  looked  at  Henry  Harris,  and 
opened  his  mouth  : 

"America  muchee  smart,"  he  announced.  If,  from  the 
orifice  in  question,  one  of  the  martyred  crabs  had  suddenly 
jumped  out,  the  guest  would  not  have  been  much  more  taken 
aback.  But  he  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"  China  is  much  the  oldest,"  he  replied  instantly,  and 
with  a  bow. 

The  little  eyes  of  the  mandarin  glittered.  "  India  muchee 
sun,"  he  remarked  to  the  Brahmin. 

"  Yes,"  the  other  replied,  with  his  ready  smile,  "  but  too 
much  of  our  sun  goes  into  the  poppy." 

"  Yes  ;  too  muchee  opium,"  the  host  acknowledged,  and 
"  too  muchee  English,"  he  added.  "  Turkish  Empire  fight," 
he  suggested  to  Hassan  Pasha. 

"  We  are  poor  ;  China  is  rich,"  was  the  reply  ;  and,  as  if 
distributing  a  higher  variety  of  sugar-plums  in  addition  to 
the  sweetmeats  with  which  the  servants  were  now  heaping 
the  table,  the  mandarin  managed  to  address  to  every  guest 
a  brief  compliment  in  regard  to  his  own  country,  receiving  a 
more  or  less  pertinent  one  in  return. 

This  ritual  of  hospitality  ended,  the  conversation  took  a 
freer  range.  It  happened  that  there  was  no  Frenchman  at 
the  dinner,  and  Hop  Fun  suggested,  by  way  of  variety,  a 
criticism  :  "  Frenchman  too  muchee  cut-a-caper,"  but  it  was 
said  with  a  countenance  which  had,  apparently,  never  smiled. 
Perhaps  Hassan  Pasha  had,  the  Koran  to  the  contrary  not 
withstanding,  taken  too  much  stimulant  ;  or,  he  may  have 
been  irritated  by  his  animosity  to  Europeans  in  general,  but 
he  said,  with  haughty  disdain  : 


A   CHINESE  REPAST.  155 

"  The  French  are  a  nation  of  fools.  They  are  not  men. 
Go  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  if  you  wish  to  believe  in 
Darwin.  No  monkeys  ever  screamed  and  gesticulated  as 
they  do.  I  confess,"  he  continued,  in  excellent  English, 
"  that  it  enrages  a  man  of  my  nation  to  be  at  the  beck  of 
such  people." 

As  has  been  said,  the  Turk  was  a  man  of  high  rank,  of 
considerable  wealth,  of  disappointed  ambition.  For  a  brief 
time  he  had  been  Vizier,  but,  exiled  from  Constantinople,  he 
had  abandoned  himself  to  profligacy  and  gambling.  Al 
though  of  a  fine  presence  still,  his  dark  eyes  had  flashes  oc 
casionally  of  a  fire  which  was  consuming  him  within.  There 
was  a  certain  insolence  which  broke,  at  times,  through  the 
smooth  veneer  of  his  politeness  ;  and  he  was  exasperated, 
also,  by  his  nearness  to  the  Hindoo.  Had  he  uttered  his  in 
most  heart,  he  would  have  said  :  "  I  am  the  ruined  outcast 
of  a  nation  once  the  bravest,  the  proudest  on  earth.  Under 
the  banner  of  the  Prophet  we  drove  out  the  dogs,  the  unbe 
lievers,  and  made  a  home  for  ourselves  in  Europe.  But  we 
are  going  down  before  the  Cross.  This  accursed  Hindoo, 
for  instance,  is  a  specimen.  Yesterday  he  was  a  heathen  ; 
to-day  he  believes  in  the  Christ  of  Europe  ;  to-morrow  all  In 
dia  will  follow  at  his  heels.  Renegade  !  Accursed  giaour  ! 
In  Stamboul  we  kill  such  vermin  ! " 

But  all  that  he  said  aloud  was,  "  I  perceive  that  there  are 
no  Europeans  present.  For  once,  I  think,  we  may  express 
ourselves  frankly.  May  I  ask  your  Excellency,"  and  he 
bowed  with  great  respect  to  their  host,  "  what  you  think  of 
them  ?  " 

But  Hop  Fun  had  not  been — and  for  so  long — under  the 
influence  of  Yung  Wing  for  nothing.  Moreover,  he  was  a 
statesman  in  Paris  upon  international  affairs.  For  some 
minutes  his  bead-like  optics  were  fastened  upon  the  black  and 
imperious  eyes  of  the  Turk.  Not  a  movement  was  there  in 
hand  or  face,  nor  could  any  one  have  perceived  that  he  had 
parted  his  lips.  Yet,  in  some  way,  there  came,  at  last,  from 
his  direction  the  word  "  Opium  !  "  and,  but  separate  from  it, 


156  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

like  another  tick  of  a  clock,  "Muchee  hell!"  That  and  no 
more. 

"  I  thank  you,"  Hassan  Pasha  replied,  "  and  I  agree  with 
your  Excellency.  Yes  ;  your  great  nation  has  had  a  taste 
of  Europe.  "When,  in  1839,  your  Government  made  a  des 
perate  effort  to  prevent  the  English  from  poisoning  its  peo 
ple  with  opium,  it  was  brutally  attacked.  Being  Christians, 
the  English  devote  themselves  to  the  best  modes  of  killing 
their  fellow-creatures,  and,  in  1842,  they  succeeded  in  com 
pelling  China  to  pay  twenty-one  millions  of  dollars  toward 
the  expenses  of  the  war,  and  in  ceding  Hong  Kong  to  them, 
as  also  in  opening  five  great  ports  through  which  they  might 
pour  their  poison  down  the  throats  of  the  people  at  the  rate 
of  fifty-two  millions  of  dollars'  worth  annually,  upon  which 
they  clear  three  hundred  per  cent.  In  1857  the  French  and 
the  English  stormed  Canton,  and  forced  the  Emperor  to  pay 
them  three  millions  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds 
in  English  money.  In  1860  Pekin,  your  ancient  capital,  was 
taken,  and  given  over  to  plunder.  Very  grateful  your  Ex 
cellency  should  be  to  these — Christians  ! "  It  was  said  by 
the  Turk  with  bitter  sarcasm.  "  You,  also,  are  greatly  in 
debted  to  England,"  he  added,  in  the  same  tone,  to  the  Per 
sian,  Meerut  by  name,  who  was  seated  opposite  him. 

"  Very  much  so,"  replied  the  one  addressed — a  large  man, 
fat,  fine-featured,  with  olive  complexion,  and  hair,  beard, 
and  mustache  like  silk,  jet-black,  and,  like  his  eyes  and  tones, 
of  a  soft  and  luxurious  fluidity.  He  was  dressed  in  em 
broidered  garments,  with  a  red  fez  upon  his  head,  like  that 
of  Hassan  Pasha.  "  Since  1797  we  have  had  a  hard  time  of 
it,"  he  remarked,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes  ;  in  that  year,"  said  the  Turk,  "  you  had  to  sur 
render  to  Russia  Derbend  and  several  districts  on  the  Kur. 
In  1802  you  gave  up  Georgia  to  the  Czar.  In  1813  you 
surrendered  all  of  Persia  north  of  Armenia.  In  1826  you 
had  to  pay  to  Russia  eighteen  million  rubles,  Erivan,  and 
the  rest  of  Armenia.  As  in  the  case  of  my  country,  that 
you  exist  at  all  is  only  because  England,  France,  and  Russia 


A   CHINESE  REPAST,  157 

can  not,  for  the  present,  agree  how  to  divide  you  among 
them." 

The  Persian  did  not  seem  to  share  the  bitterness  of  the 
speaker.  He  merely  smiled,  and  toyed  with  the  diamonds 
with  which  his  bosom  was  enriched,  saying  :  "  As  Hafiz  sings, 
how  much  sweeter,  O  Turk,  are  kisses  than  blows,  and  the 
flowing  of  honey  than  the  gushing  forth  of  blood.  To  you  and 
to  the  Ottomans  will  we  leave  all  war,  O  Prince  !  More 
over,  I  belong,"  the  Persian  continued,  "  to  the  sect  of  the 
Shiahites.  You  wash  before  prayer  from  the  wrist  to  the 
elbow  ;  we  wash,  instead,  from  the  elbow  down  to  the  wrist. 
Furthermore,  I  am  one  of  the  Ali  Illahees — the  People  of  the 
Truth.  Most  of  all  do  I  believe  in  Hafiz  of  the  sugar  lip. 
For  me,  pleasure,"  and  the  Persian  smiled  and  stroked  his 
mustache. 

"  Hog  ! "  the  Turk  exclaimed,  under  his  breath,  of  this 
Mohammedan  liberal.  The  truth  was,  Hassan  Pasha  had  not, 
since  he  came  to  Paris,  allowed  himself  to  indulge  his  mood, 
but  he  now  drained  another  glass  of  sherbet,  into  which 
alcohol  had  found  its  insidious  way,  and  turned  to  Cherubin, 
the  Abyssinian.  This  was  a  thin  and  wiry  man,  of  darker 
hue  than  Meerut,  beside  whom  he  sat.  His  hair  was  cropped 
close  to  his  head,  and  he  wore  a  mantle  of  crimson  banded  with 
gold.  Like  the  others,  he  spoke  good  English  and  French  ; 
for  only  such  cared,  as  a.  rule,  to  visit  the  Exposition. 

"  If  England,"  said  Hassan  Pasha  to  him,  "  had  allowed 
a  dispatch  from  the  French  Government  to  lie  unopened  in 
its  Foreign  Office,  would  France  have  submitted  ?  " 

"  No,"  shouted  the  Abyssinian,  excited  by  the  liquor  and 
by  this  mention  of  the  disgraceful  neglect  of  the  letter  of 
his  king  ;  "  but  it  was  better,"  he  added,  "  than  the  insult 
ing  reply  from  France  which  Theodore,  descended  from  Sol 
omon  himself,  tore  to  atoms  and  trampled  underfoot." 

"  Alas  ! "  added  Hassan  Pasha,  "  in  1868  the  English 
stormed  Magdala,  your  capital.  Not  a  man  of  them  was 
killed,  but  your  king  was  found  among  his  slaughtered  sub 
jects  with  a  bullet  through  his  brain." 


158  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  These  are  hardly  topics  for  a  dinner-table,"  Ishra  Dhass 
ventured,  in  his  joyous  tones.  "  If  your  Highness  would  be 
so  kind  as  to — "  But  Hassan  Pasha  was  now  intoxicated. 
To  the  Hindoo  he  paid  no  attention.  He  had  been  looking 
furtively  at  Ali  Khan,  seated  further  down  the  table.  As 
has  been  said,  this  Afghan  was  a  man  of  remarkable  appear 
ance.  It  was  not  that  he  was  large  and  exceedingly  rugged 
only.  He  had  a  certain  bold,  yet  not  unpleasing,  aspect, 
which  made  him  as  much  unlike  as  possible  to  the  polished 
Turk  or  to  the  voluptuous  Persian.  As  to  Hop  Fun,  he  was 
a  pygmy  in  comparison.  One  hand  of  the  mountaineer  lay 
upon  the  table,  as  huge  and  almost  as  hairy  as  that  of  a  bear. 
He  had  been  listening  attentively  after  having  eaten  enor 
mously,  and  even  Hassan  Pasha  hesitated  to  address  him. 
Like  all  Afghans,  he  had  been  a  Mohammedan  of  the  sect  of 
the  Sunnites,  which  was  abhorred  by  an  orthodox  Mussul 
man  like  the  Pasha.  In  addition  to  this,  the  Turk  knew 
that  he  was  nephew  to  the  famous  ex-robber  Dilawur  Khan  ; 
but  he  ventured  to  say  to  him,  at  last  :  "  It  is  little  thanks 
you,  O  Khan,  owe  English  or  Russian.  But  it  was  a  good 
thing,  your  war  of  1842.  Out  of  an  army,  under  the  Eng 
lish,  of  twenty-six  thousand,  you  allowed  only  one  man  to 
make  his  escape." 

"O  Turk,"  the  Afghan  replied,  "hearken  to  me!" 
Even  Hop  Fun  opened  his  eyes.  The  voice  of  the  Khan 
was  in  keeping  with  his  mountainous  frame  ;  it  was  harsh 
and  loud.  "  I  hate  ;  I,  also  ! "  shouted  the  Afghan,  as  if 
calling  to  the  Turk  across  a  pass  among  his  native  rocks  ; 
"  but  what  I  hate  is  worse  than  all  you  have  said.  Hearken 
unto  me,  O  son  of  your  father  !  "  And  every  eye  was  turned 
upon  him. 

At  this  moment,  however,  the  mandarin  arose  from  the 
table,  and  the  guests  followed  him  into  the  parlors,  there  to 
hear  what  Ali  Khan  had  to  say. 


ALI  KHAN.  159 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ALI    KHAN. 

WHEN,  after  leaving  the  table  of  Hop  Fun,  the  numer 
ous  company  reached  the  gorgeous  parlors,  Henry  Harris, 
seated  beside  a  window  on  one  side,  confessed  to  himself 
that  he  had  never  seen  a  more  picturesque  sight.  The  man 
darin  had  installed  himself  in  a  high  chair,  and  sat  in  it  with 
his  little  feet  resting  upon  the  rounds  and  concealed  from 
sight  by  the  superb  robes  which  fell  about  him  in  silken 
folds  ;  his  hands,  with  the  nails  six  inches  long  and  twisted 
about  his  wrists,  rested,  crossed  upon  each  other,  in  his  lap. 
Eked  out  by  silk  interwoven  with  it,  his  hair  descended  down 
his  back  in  a  queue  which  reached  the  brilliantly  colored  mat 
ting.  A  hat,  with  the  crystal  knob  on  top  which  indicated 
his  high  rank,  was  perched  upon  his  head.  Thus  seated,  a 
fan  in  his  hand  but  absolutely  motionless,  he  was  almost  the 
duplicate  of  an  image  carved  in  ivory  which  stood  in  a  cor 
ner,  and  which  the  Brahmin  had  informed  the  American 
was,  or  rather  had  been,  a  god. 

"  Really,  the  Chinese  believe,"  the  Hindoo  had  added, 
"  in  nothing  invisible  or  spiritual.  Taouism  and  Brahmin- 
ism,  as  much  as  Buddhism,  are,  as  I  told  you,  dead  faiths. 
Confucianism  is  a  mere  set  of  maxims  relating  wholly  to 
the  dealing  of  men  with  each  other.  It  is  what  you  would 
call  a  Benjamin  Franklinism,  for  there  is  the  strongest  like 
ness  between  the  two  sages.  There  are  in  China  some  three 
hundred  millions,  also,  of  fools,  who  say  in  their  heart,  there 
is  no  God.  An  empire  of  atheists  !  Think  of  that  !  " 

"  But  they  worship  their  ancestors,"  Henry  Harris  said. 
The  other  replied  : 

"  Merely  as  a  memory,  not  as  persons  still  existing  ;  and 
only  as  the  best  way  of  inculcating  filial  obedience.  No, 
what  Hop  Fun  worships  is  China.  It  is  a  very  big  and  a 
very  old  idol,  and,  like  the  Vishnu  and  Siva  of  my  own  peo- 


160  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

pie,  it  is  so  old  and  hollow  and  rotten  that  it  is  falling  to 
pieces." 

Although  the  eyes  of  the  motionless  mandarin  were  small, 
they  glittered  like  diamonds,  for  he  greatly  enjoyed  his  com 
pany,  as  he  had  done  his  dinner.  The  Abyssinian  had  seated 
himself  upon  a  lacquered  chair,  with  a  seat  so  narrow  and 
a  back  so  stiff  that  he  was  prevented  from  dozing  after  his 
meal  by  the  necessity  of  keeping  bolt -upright,  if  he  was 
to  keep  his  seat  at  all.  The  Persian  had  thrown  himself 
upon  a  divan  and  was  enjoying  a  pipe  of  tobacco  mingled 
with  musk,  while  Hassan  Pasha,  discarding  Europe  for  the 
time,  sat  cross-legged  beside  him,  puffing  at  a  chibouque. 
Upon  an  ottoman  near  by  was  seated  a  Japanese  prince, 
fan  in  hand,  who  had  remained  silent  but  observant ;  and 
the  American,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other,  was  struck 
with  the  greater  breadth  of  his  forehead  as  contrasted  with 
the  Chinaman,  and  he  read  in  that  breadth  the  exact  dif 
ference  between  the  two  peoples.  A  swarthy  native  of  Mad 
agascar  had  made  himself  comfortable  by  sitting,  draped 
about  in  his  mantle,  flat  upon  the  matting,  his  back  against 
the  wall.  Ishra  Dhass,  smiling  and  jovial  as  ever,  was  here, 
there,  and  everywhere.  His  snowy  turban,  his  white  teeth, 
sparkling  as  he  laughed,  his  perfect  ease  of  manner,  made 
him  seem  to  be  the  one  most  at  home  there,  and  his  con 
ciliating  courtesy  to  each  and  all  caused  him  to  be  really 
the  bond  of  union  and  the  controlling  spirit  of  the  strange 
(  and  diversified  assembly.  It  was,  in  fact,  under  his  influ 
ence  that  the  mandarin  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  assem 
bling  such  guests  about  him. 

But  the  Afghan  khan  was  the  center  of  the  group.  Like 
his  renowned  uncle,  he  had  been  in  the  British  army  in 
India,  had  aided  in  crushing  the  Sepoy  rebellion,  and  had 
acquired  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  English  to  use  it  with  a 
certain  rough  readiness.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  you  meet  him," 
Ishra  Dhass  had  said  to  Henry  Harris  as  they  came  in  from 
the  dinner.  "  He  is  absent  from  his  regiment  on  furlough. 
It  is  a  matter  of  pride  to  him  that  his  voice  is  such  that  he 


ALT  KHAN.  161 

can  drill  his  regiment  from  a  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  Once  he  was  seized  upon,  when  unarmed,  by  two 
Thugs,  who  rushed  suddenly  upon  him  as  he  slept  under  a 
banyan-tree.  They  say  that  he  took  one  in  each  hand  and 
dashed  their  heads  together,  breaking  their  skulls  and  killing 
them  upon  the  spot." 

"  What  an  uncouth  Hercules  he  is  !  "  the  American  now 
said  to  himself  as  he  looked  at  the  robust,  almost  rocky  sav 
age.  But  he  was  yet  to  learn  that  the  singular  strength  of 
the  Afghan  lay,  in  its  highest  form,  in  something  more  than 
mere  bone  and  muscle.  It  was  plain  that  Ishra  Dhass  had 
given  him  an  urgent  hint ;  for,  after  leaving  the  dinner- 
table,  he  had  softened  his  tones  as  much  as  possible,  although 
they  still  rolled,  when  he  spoke,  like  thunder  through  the 
large  and  sumptuously  furnished  apartments. 

"  There  are  things  I  hate  worse  than  anything  Hassan 
Pasha  talks  about,"  he  now  said,  refusing  to  be  seated,  tower 
ing  head  and  shoulders  above  the  rest.  "  I  know  the  Euro 
peans — English,  French,  German,  Russian,"  he  proceeded, 
his  left  hand  upon  his  great  tawny  beard,  only  less  abundant 
than  that  of  a  lion,  "  and  I  know  the  Asiatics — Sikhs,  Hin 
doos,  Chinese,  Turks,  Persians,  Armenians  ;  know  them  all 
— know  them  well.  And  I  don't  want  to  talk  ;  but  he,"  with 
a  gesture  toward  Hassan  Pasha,  "  has  begun  it.  Very  good. 
Of  all  people  I  love  the  Europeans  most,  and  I  hate  them 
most ;  because  they  have  done  the  most  good  and  the  most 
harm  in  the  world.  Ishra  Dhass  knows  why.  Tell  them, 
O  Hindoo." 

"  I  will  not,  0  Khan,"  the  Brahmin  said,  in  accents  which 
sounded  like  those  of  a  woman  in  comparison  with  the  harsh 
tones  of  the  other.  "  Are  you  afraid  to  speak,  O  nephew 
of  Dilawur  Khan  ?  Tell  them  yourself."  But  the  face  of 
Ishra  Dhass  was  very  bright  as  he  said  it.  Plainly,  there 
was  a  sympathy  between  the  two. 

"  There  are  many  matters  ;  of  which  shall  I  speak  first  ?  " 
and  the  Khan  scratched  behind  his  ear  like  an  enormous 
school-boy  as  he  reflected.  "  Hassan  Pasha  spoke  of  Euro- 


162  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

pean  weapons,"  he  continued,  lifting  his  head.  "  True,  O 
Turk.  The  Europeans  can  make  books,  yet  they  give  lakhs 
of  money  to  making  rifles  instead.  They  can  build  railroads, 
and  lo!  they  cast  great  cannon.  Millions  of  rupees  are  theirs, 
wisdom  and  skill  beyond  all  the  world,  yet  do  they  erect,  not 
schools  and  churches,  but  vast  ships  of  iron.  They  are  Chris 
tians,  yet  they  crush  men  in  battle ;  Christians,  yet  they  war 
upon  Christians,  British  against  Russian,  and  Russian  against 
British.  God  gives  them  wisdom,  money,  power,  beyond  all 
other  people.  The  whole  world  trembles  before  them.  God 
says  to  them,  Go,  save  !  And  they  do  go,  go  everywhere,  but 
go — "  and  the  ears  of  the  guests  were  almost  deafened, 
"go,"  the  Khan  said,  in  thunder,  "to  kill!"  There  was 
satisfaction  in  the  face  of  Hassan  Pasha  as  he  smoked  steadily 
on,  his  eyes  upon  the  speaker,  his  lip  curled. 

"  As  to  the  heathen,  it  is  money  they  seek.  You  love 
money,"  the  Afghan  said,  turning  with  rude  frankness  upon 
the  mandarin.  "  And  you,  O  Persian,"  he  added.  "  You 
also,  O  Turk  ;  because  it  is  all  you  have.  You  hunger  for 
it,  thirst  for  it,  die  for  it.  Shall  not  the  ox  desire  his  grass  ? 
But  the  Franks,  they  have  Christ.  Yet  it  is  as  if  they,  too, 
had  no  god  but  gold.  I — I  wonder  at  them,"  the  Afghan 
said,  with  large  eyes;  "it  confuses  me.  O  my  fathers,  I  can 
not  understand  it." 

"Yes,  O  Khan,"  Hassan  Pasha  suggested,  ironically; 
"  but  did  you  never  see  a  Christian  drunk  ?  " 

The  Afghan  looked  down  upon  the  speaker.  "  Yea,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  have  also  seen  a  drunken  Mohammedan."  It 
was  indecorous  to  laugh,  but  the  eyes  of  all  brightened  at 
this  palpable  hit  at  the  Moslem,  who  affected  to  smoke  with 
a  gravity  all  the  sterner. 

"  Alas  !  yes,"  groaned  Ali  Khan,  "  to  the  Europeans  are 
revealed  the  wonders  of  heaven  as  of  earth,  yet  they  also 
drink.  They  see  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth  with  all  its 
treasures,  and  to  them  God  has  revealed  heaven  and  himself. 
Angels  might  they  be,  yet  are  they  also  swine.  You  are 
American,"  the  huge  rustic  added,  turning  swiftly  upon 


ALT  KHAN.  163 

young  Harris  ;  "out  of  all  men  your  people  love  money 
most  ;  do  you  also  get  drunk  ?  "  The  question  was  like  a 
blow. 

"  It  is  not  American,"  Henry  Harris  hastened  to  say, 
"  nor  Turk  ;  it  is  not  Russian,  Syrian,  nor  English  ;  it  is 
men  you  speak  of.  Are  we  not  all  made  of  the  same  clay?" 

"  True,  O  Ali,"  said  Ishra  Dhass,  hastening  to  the  help 
of  his  young  friend,  and,  laying  one  hand  on  his  own  bosom, 
he  placed  the  other  upon  that  of  the  Khan  ;  "  feel  it,  hear  it, 
know  it,  is  it  not  the  heart,  the  same  heart  in  all  men  every 
where  ?  " 

But  the  Afghan  was  looking  gravely,  inquiringly,  at  the 
American.  He  hardly  heard  the  Hindoo.  "  I  know  little  of 
your  country,"  he  said  to  the  American.  "  They  tell  me  it  is 
big,  very  big.  It  also  is  Christian,  and  it  is  different  from 
Europe.  In  your  country  do  they — do  they — "  Henry 
Harris  felt  his  own  face  growing  warm  as  he  saw  that  the 
countenance  of  the  Afghan,  rugged  as  a  mountain,  was  actu 
ally  coloring.  "  Do  they —  "  the  Khan  continued,  with  pain 
ful  eagerness  and  with  the  wistful  eyes  of  a  child,  "  do  your 
people — do  your  men  and  women  together — do  they  waltz?" 
The  one  addressed  would  have  laughed  aloud  at  the  reluc 
tance  with  which  the  word  came  out  at  last,  but  he  dared  not 
do  it ;  the  aspect  of  the  inquirer  was  too  serious. 

"  Our  women  are  pure,  pure  as  snow,"  Henry  Harris  said, 
writh  energy. 

"  And  your  men,  are  they  pure  also  ?  "  the  Afghan  asked  ; 
but  the  Brahmin  came  again  to  the  rescue. 

"  One  thing  we  all  know,"  the  Hindoo  said,  standing  in 
the  center  of  the  group,  "whatever  may  be  the  sins  of  Euro 
peans,  one  thing  we  know — China,  India,  the  Turkish  Empire, 
Afghanistan,  Japan,  Siam,  Burmah,  Thibet,  everywhere  ex 
cept  in  Christendom,  the  government,  the  religion,  is  perish 
ing.  We  are  intelligent  men.  Who  of  us  denies  it  ?  " 

"  And  is  not  Russia  to  perish  before  its  Nihilists  ?  "  Has 
san  Pasha  took  his  amber  pipe  from  his  mouth  to  ask.  "  Is 
not  Socialism  festering  in  Germany  ?  How  long  since  France 


164  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

fell  before  the  Commune  ?  To-morrow  this  poor  republic 
tumbles,  and  then  Europe  is  again  overturned.  Perish? 
The  forests  perish  every  year,  the  world  shall  perish  at  last. 
Kismet !  It  is  fate.  Mashallah  Bismillah"  and  the  Oriental 
replaced  his  pipe  between  his  lips  with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  True,  O  Pasha,"  said  the  Brahmin,  softly,  "  and  yet  in 
Christendom,  not  in  us,  is  the  enduring  life.  It  falls  to  rise; 
we  fall  to  rot.  For  they  are  Christians.  Therefore,  they  of 
all  men  should  tremble  before  him  who  is  coming.  It  is  not 
Christ,  but  opium  which  they  give  to  China.  Listen  to  me, 
O  men  ! "  The  Hindoo  stood  before  his  audience  with  lifted 
hand.  "  Where  do  the  English  get  the  accursed  poison  ? 
The  northern  states  of  Rajpootana,  whence  I  come,  are 
too  barren  to  raise  much  grain,  and  heretofore  the  poor 
people  have  depended  upon  the  southern  states,  especially 
upon  Malwa,  where  the  soil  is  deep,  black,  rich  for  food. 
Of  late  Malwa  raises  the  poppy  instead,  seeing  that  it  pays 
better,  leaving  Ajmere  and  Mairwarra,  north  of  it,  to  perish 
of  famine  !  They  told  me,  when  I  stood  in  Malwa,  that  the 
poppies  which  crimsoned  their  fields  were  red  with  the  blood 
also,  not  of  the  poisoned  Chinese  only,  nor  of  the  millions 
starved  to  the  north  of  them  only — every  man,  woman,  and 
child,  they  told  me,  among  these  flowers  flaming  with  the 
fires  of  hell  has  taken  to  the  use  of  opium  !  In  your  boasted 
America,"  and  the  speaker  pointed  to  Henry  Harris,  "  opium- 
smokers  already  pay  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year 
in  customs  dues,  and  the  sum  is  swelling  every  year.  Your 
Indians  ask  for  the  water  of  life,  and  you  give  them  whisky 
instead.  India  and  China  hold  out  their  hands  to  England, 
cr.ying,  '  Since  God  has  given  to  you  the  bread  of  life,  give  it 
also  to  us,'  and  England  gives  them — opium  !  Christ  is  com 
ing,  sword  in  hand  ;  it  is  Christendom  should  tremble  at 
his  coming  ! "  and  the  very  lips  of  the  Brahmin  whitened 
with  his  fervor.  It  was  as  if  with  lifted  eyes  he  actually 
saw  the  one  of  whom  he  spoke. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  Hop  Fun  opened 
his  lips.  It  was  but  to  utter  one  word — "  Tae-ping." 


ALI  KHAN.  165 

"  Yes,"  the  Hindoo  said,  eagerly,  catching  his  meaning, 
"  but  Tae-ping-wang  was  a  liar.  Nearly  thirty  years  ago  he 
called  himself  Christian,  and  fought  but  failed  to  overturn 
your  emperor.  Why  did  he  fail?  Because  he  said  that 
Tien-ma  was  the  wife  of  God  ;  that  he,  Hung,  was  himself, 
brutal  wretch  that  he  was,  the  son  of  God.  That  is  the  curse 
of  Europe,  too,  and  of  America,"  exclaimed  the  Hindoo, 
with  intense  earnestness.  "  They  pretend  that  their  Chris 
tianity  is  Christ.  It  is  not ! "  and  his  voice  rang  through 
the  room.  "  Catholic,  Greek  Church,  Protestant,  are  half 
heathen  in  this,  that,  like  idolaters,  each  makes  a  Christ  of 
its  own,  and  falls  down  before  that.  Pope,  preacher,  priest, 
each  poor  creature,  whoever,  whatever  it  is,  dreams  that  he 
or  it  is  the  Tae-ping-wang,  the  Saviour  of  men  ;  as  if  a  louse," 
added  the  plain-spoken  Hindoo,  "should  crawl  across  the 
face  of  the  noonday  sun,  saying,  Behold  me !  You  are 
right,"  he  said  to  the  Turk  ;  "  so  far  as  it  is  only  of  man,  all 
systems  perish.  English  gold  and  Russian  force,  cannon 
and  iron-clad,  American  invention  and  French  revolution — 
these  but  blast  a  highway  for  Him  who  comes.  These  are 
the  sappers,  the  engineers,  not  the  King.  Who  knows  but 
terrible  calamities  shall  smite  Europe,  America,  as  well  as 
China  and  Turkey  ?  It  is  not,"  he  added,  in  gentler  accents, 
"  a  German  Christ  we  want,  nor  do  we  need  an  American 
Christ,  or  British  Jesus.  The  missionaries  bring  us  Christ, 
but  are  not  themselves  the  saviours,  except  in  that,  so  far  as 
the  work  is  only  of  men,  they  also  fail  as  the  heathen  fail. 
What  we  need  is  the  Syrian  Son  of  God,  the  Man  of  Naza 
reth  himself  again,  as  of  old." 

But  the  Brahmin  arrested  himself  as  by  an  effort,  and 
soon  after  the  company  dispersed,  the  last  words  of  Hop  Fun 
lingering  in  the  ears  of  the  American  as  he  rode  away : 
"  Kong-f  u-tse  say,  *  Friends  no  dine  at  all  unless  their  souls 
dine  too.' " 


166  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE   NOBLE  DUKE. 

ONE  evening,  Earl  Dorrington,  confined  to  his  easy-chair 
by  a  slight  attack  of  gout,  was  conversing  with  his  daughter, 
Lady  Blanche.  She.  had  been  reading  the  "  Times  "  to  him, 
but  the  attention  of  both  was  given  rather  to  the  Duke  of 
Plymouth,  who  was  playing  billiards  with  Henry  Harris  in 
an  adjoining  room,  the  door  of  which  had  been  left  open. 
Now,  the  correct  place  for  such  a  game  would  have  been 
elsewhere,  but  Lady  Blanche  was  fond,  strictly  in  private, 
of  playing  with  her  brother,  and  the  present  arrangement  was 
part  of  what  Lord  Conyngham  described  as  "  the  camping 
out  "  of  the  family  while  in  Paris.  The  article  which  Lady 
Blanche  was  reading  to  the  Earl  was  leveled  at  John  Bright, 
and,  as  she  laid  the  paper  down  at  the  end,  "  Yes,"  the  Earl 
remarked,  "  his  family  extends  back  through  eight  centu 
ries." 

"  Indeed,"  Lady  Blanche  exclaimed,  "  I  had  supposed  he 
was  a  nobody  of  yesterday." 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  person  about  whom  you  have 
read,  nor  was  I  thinking  of  him,"  the  Earl  said,  and,  by  an 
inclination  of  his  head,  he  indicated  that  it  was  of  the  Duke 
he  spoke.  "  It  was  an  ancestor  of  his,"  the  Earl  continued, 
"  who  assisted  William  the  Conqueror  to  his  feet  when  he 
stumbled  and  fell,  upon  his  first  landing  in  England.  For 
this,  and  for  helping  William  off  with  his  boots  after  the 
Battle  of  Hastings,  he  received  an  earldom  and  large  grants 
of  land. 

"So  I  have  heard,"  Lady  Blanche  remarked,  absently, 
and  added  immediately,  "  Do  you  not  think  that  he  is  a  larger 
man  than  my  brother  ?  " 

"Assuredly  so,"  the  Earl  replied,  from  sheer  force  of 
habit,  but  corrected  himself  in  the  same  breath.  "  Do  you 
really  consider  him  so  ?  The  Duke  is  of  a  refined,  but  not 
of—" 


THE  NOBLE  DUKE.  167 

"  It  was  not  of  the  Duke  I  was  speaking,"  his  daughter 
interrupted,  in  a  tone  like  that  used  by  the  Earl  in  regard  to 
John  Bright.  "I  was  speaking  of  Mr.  Henry  Harris." 

The  billiard-room  was  near  enough  for  her  to  see  the 
gentlemen  as  they  played,  but  too  far  off  for  them  to  hear  or 
to  be  overheard.  From  long  habit,  Lady  Blanche  could  read 
to  her  father  without  giving  a  thought  to  what  she  read,  and 
she  had  been  contrasting  their  visitors  with  each  other  while 
she  repeated  the  thunder  of  the  "  Times  "  for  the  Earl.  Lay 
ing  down  the  paper,  and  gazing  upon  the  billiard-players, 
she  had  said  to  herself  of  the  Duke  :  "  Yes,  he  is  nervous, 
thin-skinned,  sensitive.  He  is  small  enough  already  ;  why 
will  he  make  himself  seem  so  much  smaller  by  shrinking  into 
himself  as  he  does  ?  He  turns  into  a  mimosa  plant  the  mo 
ment  he  comes  near  me,  wilts  and  shrivels  visibly  if  I  only 
look  him  in  the  eyes.  The  American  seems  to  expand,  in 
stead,  when  with  me,  as  if  I  brought  summer  to  him." 

"  His  is  a  line  of  royal  favorites,"  Earl  Dorrington  was 
saying,  in  the  same  subdued  tone,  while  she  thus  thought. 
"  No  less  than  thirteen  of  the  confiscated  Church  properties, 
abbeys,  monasteries,  priories,  and  the  like,  were  bestowed 
by  Henry  VIII  upon  an  ancestor  of  his.  Another  ancestor 
was  greatly  enriched  by  Charles  II." 

But  Lady  Blanche  looked  suddenly  and  sharply  at  the 
Earl,  and  her  color  was  reflected  in  that  which  tinged  his 
fine  forehead.  No  wonder !  It  was  an  ancestress,  rather, 
who,  at  the  price  of  her  honor,  had  secured  the  favor  for  her 
husband  of  that  dissolute  pensioner  of  Louis  of  France,  and 
the  eyes  of  Lady  Blanche  glanced  toward  the  ducal  descend 
ant,  and  then  fell  to  the  ground. 

"  I  am  not  mercenary,  as  you  well  know,  my  dear,"  the 
Earl  remarked,  after  quite  a  pause  ;  "  but  I  can  not  endure 
that  your  rank  should  be  less  than  that  of  your  brother  ; 
you  should  have  been  my  son,  Blanche  !  "  The  white-haired 
old  man  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  as  he  said  it.  She  un 
derstood  perfectly  ;  of  the  two,  she  was  her  father's  favorite 
because  she  was  most  like  him,  as  Lord  Conyngham  was 


168  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

most  like  his  deceased  mother.  So  far  as  a  woman  can  be 
so,  yet  remain  a  woman,  Lady  Blanche  was  an  aristocrat  in 
the  intensest  sense  of  the  word  ;  if  she  had  been  a  man  in 
stead,  she  would  have  been  insufferably  so.  Her  father  did 
not  say  it,  but  she  knew  what  he  meant  :  "  You  better  de 
serve  to  be  a  duchess  than  he  does  to  be  an  earl !  "  Had  the 
words  been  spoken,  she  could  not  have  understood  him  more 
perfectly. 

"  No,  I  am  not  of  a  sordid  nature,"  the  Earl  added,  and 
it  was  very  true,  "  but  wealth  is  power.  His  Grace  owns  no 
less  than  one  hundred  and  sixteen  thousand  and,  to  be  accu 
rate,  six  hundred  and  sixty-eight  acres,  in  the  best  parts  of 
England  and  Scotland." 

"  In  other  words,"  Lady  Blanche  added,  in  a  yet  lower 
tone,  and  as  if  calculating,  "  he  is  willing  to  pay  for  my  hand 
no  less  than  a  rental  of  two  hundred  and  thirty-three  thou 
sand  and — let  us  be  accurate — nine  hundred  and  thirty-three 
pounds  a  year,  to  say  nothing  of  manors,  castles,  diamonds, 
cash  in  bank,  and  the  like.  Oh,  yes." 

"  Neither  you  nor  I  care  for  money  as  such,"  the  Earl 
assented;  "but  when  rank  is  almost  regal,  its  income  must 
be  in  accordance.  Assuredly  so.  Without  a  thought  upon 
our  part  the  Duke  of  Plymouth  throws  himself  at  your  feet. 
It  is  the  ordinance  of  Heaven,  my  dear,"  the  Earl  continued, 
with  venerable,  almost  sacerdotal  air,  "  that  this  nobleman 
should  seek  your  hand.  He  belongs  to  one  of  the  most  an 
cient,  as  it  is  one  of  the  wealthiest  houses  of  our  nobility. 
In  England,  my  child,  you  are  the  lady  whom  he  regards  as 
worthiest  of  his  alliance.  It  speaks  well  for  his  judgment. 
Moreover,  there  is  a  divine,  a  quite  sacred,  fitness  in  such  an 
arrangement.  Ahem  !  assuredly  so.  I  am  free  to  confess  " 
— the  Earl  seemed  in  adding  it  to  know  what  she  was  think 
ing  of — "  that  the  Duke  has  lived  what  some  might  call  a 
wild  life.  If  you  please,  we  will  acknowledge  that  he  has 
been,  shall  we  say  ?  dissipated,  beyond  most  of  our  young 
nobles.  Consider  the  temptation  to  which  his  rank,  his  al 
most  fabulous  wealth,  have  exposed  him.  Of  all  that  he  has 


THE  NOBLE  DUKE.  169 

grown  weary.  Blanche,"  the  Earl  sank  his  voice  almost  to  a 
whisper,  "  since  your  mother  is  not  here  to  say  it,  the  Duke 
will  be  as  wax  in  your  hands." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  the  lady  spoke  in  her 
ordinary  tone,  with  a  careless  frankness  ;  "  and  who  is  the 
winner  ?  "  she  asked,  as  the  billiard-players  joined  them. 

"  The  Duke,"  the  American  hastened  to  say.  "  Not  only 
am  I  but  an  ordinary  hand,  but  his  Grace  is  one  of  the  best 
players  I  have  ever  known." 

It  was  politely  said  ;  but  the  game  sank  in  the  estimation 
of  the  lady  as  it  was  said. 

"  The  Duke  has  had  much  practice,"  she  remarked,  "  and 
you  have  been  occupied  with  other  things." 

"  Mr.  Harris  plays  very  well.  To-day  he  seemed  to  be 
thinking  of  something  else."  The  Duke  said  it  for  polite 
ness'  sake.  The  American  was  as  much  to  him  and  no  more 
than  if  he  had  been  a  rich  young  Russian,  a  successful  miner 
from  Australia,  anything  of  the  kind,  anybody,  nobody.  In 
some  absurd  way,  these  Americans  were  received  into  a  so 
ciety  which  would  not  tolerate  even  the  wealthiest  brewer  or 
ironmaster,  if  he  were  English  ;  but  "  Confound  them  !  "  the 
Duke  often  observed  to  his  friends  in  private,  "  I  did  hope 
their  war  would  have  made  an  end  of  them.  They  are  an 
awful  bore.  Wherever  you  go  you  meet  them,  and,  by  Jove, 
they  act,  you  know,  as  if  they  had  a  right !  " 

On  this  occasion,  however,  the  Duke  was  unusually  con 
siderate.  He  had  learned  that  young  Harris  was  rather  a 
favorite  than  not  in  the  family  of  the  Earl.  It  had  not  en 
tered  his  head  that  any  man,  this  American  least  of  all,  could 
be  his  rival.  He  forgot  his  existence  as  he  approached  Lady 
Blanche.  The  trouble  was  that,  under  her  eyes,  he  forgot 
everything  else  also.  She  was  known  to  be  extremely  intelli 
gent  ;  he  must  talk,  talk  in  an  energetic  way,  about  something. 
"  Confound  it ! "  he  said  to  himself  now,  "  don't  be  an 
ass  !  Talk  !  Yes,  but  what  shall  I  talk  about  ?  "  and  the 
perspiration  began  to  moisten  his  forehead  ;  his  hands  sought 
each  other.  The  Earl,  Lady  Blanche,  Mr.  Harris,  were  con- 


170  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

versing  freely  upon  many  matters  ;  it  was  incumbent  upon 
the  Duke  to  strike  boldly  in.  "  We  were  speaking  of  Amer 
ica,"  he  suddenly  said  ;  "  do  you  know,  I  had  a  queer  adven 
ture  with  a  Yankee  in  Italy  last  year  ?  I  had  stopped,  you 
know,  in  one  of  those  little  towns,  you  see  ;  it  was  at  an  inn 
where  one  of  those  round  and  oily  landlords  wanted  me  to  sit 
down,  you  know,  at  his  table-d'hote.  But  I  couldn't  stand  that, 
you  know,  so  I  ordered  a  separate  table  and  made  my  man  sit 
down  with  the  people  to  their  dinner.  Wanted  to  save  time, 
you  know.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  A  man,  a  tremendous 
fellow,  looked  like  a  gentleman,  got  up  and  made  an  awful 
row  about  it,  you  know.  f  If  you  can't  eat  with  us,'  he  said, 
'  your  man  shall  not ! '  There  was  a  deuce  of  a  mess.  The 
fat  landlord,  you  know,  he  bowed  and  begged  and  protested, 
but  the  other  wouldn't  give  in.  What  was  the  man's  name  ? 
Harris  ?  Yes,  and  it  was  a  George  Harris  ;  large  man,  rough, 
stern.  Ever  met  with  him  ?  He  was  an  American,  I  learned. 
He  was  a  queer  customer  ;  perhaps  you  know  him  ?  "  And, 
with  the  kindest  intention,  the  Duke  had  turned  to  his  fel 
low-visitor. 

"  It  was  my  father,"  Henry  Harris  said,  dryly. 

"  Your  father  !  Oh  !  excuse  me,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  the 
Duke  hastened  to  say  ;  but  his  confusion  was  so  great,  since 
Lady  Blanche's  eyes  were  upon  him,  that  it  would  never  do 
to  smile,  and  Henry  Harris  changed  the  conversation  adroitly 
in  other  directions. 

But  it  was  a  severe  strain  upon  even  the  Earl.  Not  for 
an  instant  had  the  idea  entered  his  mind  that  such  a  mere 
"  person "  as  this  young  Mr.  Harris,  wealthy  as  his  father 
was,  could  aspire  to  the  hand  of  his  daughter.  Yet,  uncon 
sciously  to  himself,  he  was  wishing  that  the  Duke  had  some 
thing  more  of  the  bone  and  muscle,  the  manly  bearing  and 
ease,  of  the  American.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  lived  a  pure  life," 
the  old  Earl  thought,  as  he  glariced  at  him,  and  then  looked 
at  the  other.  "  It  is  so  important  that  my  descendants — " 
But  he  checked  himself,  and  asked  the  Duke  as  to  the  next 
Derby. 


TEE  NOBLE  DUKE.  171 

Henry  Harris  was  conversing  with  Lady  Blanche,  who 
was  showing  him  a  carving  she  had  received  but  the  day  be 
fore  from  Zerah  Atchison.  It  was  a  sleeping  St.  Bernard 
dog.  "He  died  last  year,"  she  was  saying,  "but  Mr.  Atchi 
son  has  reproduced  old  Chimborazo  to  the  life,  merely  from 
my  description.  Can  you  wonder  that  the  old  dog  was  such 
a  favorite  of  mine  ?  Is  it  not  admirable  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  be,"  the  gentleman  said  ;  and  they  continued 
to  converse  for  some  time.  But  it  was  not  while  reading 
dry  parliamentary  debates  alone  that  the  lady  could  think 
also  of  very  different  matters.  She  was  saying  to  herself,  as 
she  talked  :  "  How  strange  men  are  !  Here  is  this  duke  ;  as 
they  tell  me,  he  really  does  love  me  more  than  any  woman 
he  has  known  before.  It  is  his  devotion  to  me  which  makes 
him  so  malaprop  and  shy.  But  this  American  loves  me. 
He  loves  me  in  a  way  which  this — this  poodle  is  not  capable 
of  even  conceiving.  And  yet  the  more  he  loves,  so  much  the 
more  is  he  calmly  determined  never  to  tell  his  love.  He  is 
strong  because  he  is  proud — stronger  than  I  am  because  he 
is  prouder  than  I  am." 

The  young  American  was  mistaken  in  this,  that  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  hide — from  such  a  woman,  at  least — 
what  he  felt,  any  more  than  what  he  was.  "  She  is  the  love 
liest,"  he  was  stammering  to  himself,  under  his  cool  demeanor, 
"  the  most  beautiful  of  women  ;  strong  as  Elizabeth  of  Eng 
land  ;  charming  as  Mary  of  Scotland  ;  fascinating  as  Cleo 
patra  ;  always  a  queen  ;  there  never  was  such  a  woman  be 
fore.  O  Empress  ! " 

At  that  instant  the  hands  of  the  two  touched  in  handling 
the  carving.  Theirs  were  strong  natures.  It  was  like  an 
electric  shock.  He  lifted  his  eyes,  his  whole  heart  in  them, 
to  hers.  She  met  them  with  the  fierce  love,  as  of  a  lioness. 
Then  her  face  became  pale,  her  eyes  drooped,  her  hand  trem 
bled,  and  the  man  remained  the  master  of  the  woman,  be 
cause  he  remained  master  of  himself. 

"  Your  ladyship  is  right,"  he  said,  aloud,  and  with  perfect 
outward  coolness  ;  "  the  dog  is  admirably  done.  He  was 


172  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

your  dog,  too,     Poor  fellow !  big  as  he  was,  he  was  but  a 
dog  ;  and,  being  but  a  dog,  he  died." 

"Assuredly  so,"  Earl  Dorrington  was  saying  of  some 
thing  to  the  Duke,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  with 
a  wisdom  which  was  stately  enough  to  be  omniscience  in 
stead  ;  "  what  you  remark  is  correct.  Assuredly  so ;  as 
suredly  so  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE   LOST   WIPE. 

WHILE  the  relations  between  Mary  Harris  and  Lord 
Conyngham  seemed,  so  far,  to  be  smooth  enough,  it  was  very 
different  in  the  case  of  her  brother  and  Lady  Blanche.  Al 
though  the  affections  of  the  English  nobleman  were  deep  and 
strong,  beyond  anything  he  had  felt  before,  neither  his  love 
nor  his  hate  could  compare  in  depth  or  volume  with  that  of 
either  his  sister  or  her  lover.  Moreover,  there  were  barriers 
between  Lady  Blanche  and  Henry  Harris  more  impregnable 
than  between  Lord  Conyngham  and  the  fair  American. 
Nothing  is  becoming  more  common  than  for  English  gentle 
men,  of  rank  even,  to  marry  girls  from  the  United  States, 
while,  as  has  been  said,  nothing  is  more  uncommon  than  for 
gentlemen  from  America  to  mate  themselves  with  European 
women.  In  the  case  of  Henry  Harris  and  Lady  Blanche,  the 
ordinary  obstacles  to  such  a  union  were  apparently  the 
strongest  possible.  Both  were  of  a  proud  and  determined 
nature,  and  although  their  natural  affection  was  as  strong  as 
was  to  be  expected  in  persons  like  them,  it  was  in  the  case 
of  each  as  a  stream  which  strove  to  tear  its  way  through 
intervening  mountains,  the  peaks  of  which  were  rooted  in 
the  foundations  of  the  earth,  and  which  towered,  covered 
with  the  snow  of  ages,  to  heaven  itself.  For  the  present  the 
yearning  of  their  hearts  toward  each  other  was,  therefore,  as 
torrents  which  foam  all  the  more  fiercely  by  reason  of  the 


THE  LOST  WIFE.  173 

seemingly  insurmountable  barriers  which  interposed ;  and 
the  affection  between  Lord  Conyngham  and  Mary  Harris 
was,  in  comparison,  as  streams  which  flow  unhindered,  except 
by  ferns  and  pebbles,  through  level  and  flowery  meadows. 

When  Henry  Harris  left  the  hotel  of  the  Earl,  after  his 
game  of  billiards  with  the  Duke  of  Plymouth,  and  his  yet 
more  interesting  encounter  with  Lady  Blanche,  he  thought, 
as  he  walked  rapidly  away,  of  Zerah  Atchison.  It  was 
strange,  but  it  was  the  marble  patience  of  the  artist  rather 
than  even  the  imperious  loveliness  of  Lady  Blanche  which 
struck  itself,  like  a  medallion,  into  his  mind  at  the  moment, 
and  almost  instinctively  he  turned  his  footsteps  toward  the 
dwelling  of  the  old  man.  When  he  arrived  no  one  was  in 
the  studio  but  Zerah  Atchison  himself.  He  was  seated  at 
his  carving,  apparently,  but  his  visitor  was  struck  with 
alarm  when  he  saw  him.  The  old  painter  had  dropped  his 
tools  from  his  hand  ;  an  old  sketch-book  lay  open  in  his  lap  ; 
a  yellow  and  faded  letter  was  lying  upon  the  flower  he  had 
been  creating  out  of  the  wood.  His  patient  aspect  was  the 
same,  only  he  was  staring  into  the  air  before  him  as  at  a 
vision  ;  it  was  as  if  he  had  been  smitten  with  paralysis 
again.  The  young  man  laid  a  loving  hand  upon  his  shoul 
der,  spoke  to  him,  but  received  no  reply.  In  his  anxiety  he 
was  about  hurrying  out  to  send  for  the  daughter,  for  a 
physician,  when  the  other  seemed  to  come  to  himself. 

"  Stop,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "  give  me  a  little  time  to  recover. 
Pardon  me  a  moment."  But  he  sat  silent  so  long,  still  look 
ing  into  space,  that  his  visitor  again  began  to  cross  the  room 
to  call  for  help. 

"  No,  no  !  "  The  artist  said  it  in  so  importunate  a  tone 
that  the  other  desisted  and  came  and  stood  by  his  side.  "It 
is  wonderful !  It  is  terrible  ! "  Zerah  Atchison  murmured 
at  last,  and  then  his  eyes  turned  upon  his  visitor.  The  old, 
critical  glance  came  into  them  as  he  looked  at  his  young 
friend  long  and  steadily.  "  No,  not  Antinous,  something  of 
the  young  Hercules,"  he  said  aloud,  but  explained  himself 
immediately  with  a  gentle  smile.  "  I  see,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that 


174  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

you  are  something  more  than  a  dandy,  than  a  man  of  the 
world,  than  a  young  millionaire  even.  You  out  of  all  men 
happen  to  be  here,  and  I  am  glad  that  Isidore  is  at  the  Ex 
position.  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  You  are  the  only  person  alive 
that  I  would  tell,  could  tell,  strangers  as  we  are."  Then  he 
glanced  over  the  letter  again,  which  he  had  dropped  from 
his  hand  ;  after  that  he  gazed  into  the  air  as  if  into  the  re 
mote  past.  "  Mr.  Harris,  I  do  not  wish  to  trouble  you,  but," 
he  asked  next,  "  can  you  give  me  a  little  time  this  afternoon  ? 
Something  has  happened  to  me.  It  is  so  strange,  so  sud 
den  ! " 

The  person  to  whom  he  spoke  was  slow  in  making  ac 
quaintances,  not  because  he  did  not  observe  people,  but 
because  he  had  always  observed  them  too  closely.  But  he 
had  been  drawn  to  the  artist  from  the  instant  he  had  first 
seen  his  face  in  marble  at  the  Exposition,  and  he  now  sat 
down  in  a  chair  which  he  placed  near  him,  and  listened  as  a 
son  might  have  done  to  an  aged  father. 

"  I  will  have  to  go  back,  far  back  in  my  life,"  the  old 
man  said.  "  I  will  have,  for  a  reason  you  will  see  in  the 
end,  to  cover  myself  with  shame  ;  will  have  to  tell  what  I 
had  hoped  would  remain  known  only  to  God.  Listen."  It 
was  a  long  story.  Before  he  had  met  the  mother  of  Isidore, 
years  before  that,  and  while  quite  young,  he  had  gone  sketch 
ing  into  the  wildest  parts  of  Virginia.  Making  his  home  at 
the  log-cabin  of  an  old  farmer,  he  had  given  himself  up  to 
his  lonely  and  severe  work  among  the  roughest  passes  of  the 
Blue  Ridge  Mountains.  But  there  was,  it  so  chanced,  an 
-orphan  girl  living  with  the  farmer,  as  uneducated  as  a  child, 
almost  untamed  as  a  colt.  This  daughter  of  the  woods  had 
formed  a  sudden  and  violent  passion  for  him,  and  the  old 
artist  covered  his  face  with  his  trembling  hands,  and  was 
silent. 

"  Heaven  knows,"  he  said  at  last,  "  that  I  firmly  intended 
to  marry  her  when  a  license  and  person  could  be  obtained  to 
perform  the  ceremony.  But  she  was  almost  as  much  of  a 
savage  as  if  it  had  been  in  Central  Africa  instead,  and  one 


THE  LOST   WIFE.  175 

day  I  came  back  to  the  cabin  to  learn  that  she  had  run  away 
with  a  young  French  surveyor,  who  was  employed  in  laying 
out  lands  for  a  colony  which  proposed  coming  to  Virginia, 
but  which  never  came,  owing  to  a  revolution  in  France. 
Some  months  after  that,  when  I  had  gone  back  to  the  State 
capital,  I  received  this  old  book,"  and  he  took  it  up,  "through 
the  French  consul  at  Richmond.  It  was  a  sketch-book  I  had 
used  when  I  was  at  work  in  the  Blue  Ridge  ;  but  I  could 
not  open  it  when  it  came,  for  I  had  come  to  love  the  girl  so 
far  as  one  could  love  so  wild  a  thing,  and,  for  remorse  too, 
I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  her.  Mr.  Harris,"  the  old  artist 
added,  seriously,  "  upon  my  honor,  I  have  allowed  this  book 
to  be  unopened  until  this  hour.  I  had  utterly  forgotten  it, 
so  long  ago  was  it  since  it  came  to  me  ;  but  Isidore  found  it 
early  this  morning,  I  suppose,  among  my  clothes,  and  laid  it 
upon  my  stand  before  she  went  away.  A  moment  before 
you  came  in  I  chanced,  not  knowing  what  it  was,  to  open 
it  for  the  first  time  and  found  this."  He  took  up  the  faded 
letter  and  read  it  aloud.  It  was  a  miserably  written  note 
from  the  girl,  informing  the  painter  that  she  had  given  birth 
to  a  son  while  she  was  in  Florida  in  the  company  of  the  man 
with  whom  she  had  eloped.  "It  is  your  child,"  she  wrote, 
"  but  we  will  take  it  with  us  to  France,  to  Paris.  He  looks 
like  me,  they  say." 

That  was  all ;  except  that  the  old  artist  was  sure  the 
boy,  now  grown  to  be  a  man,  was  alive,  would  be  found  ! 
"  My  finding  this  letter  so  strangely,  and  not  until  I  my 
self  came  to  Paris,  proves  that  to  me,"  he  said.  "Never 
before  did  I  understand  why  I  came  here.  I  know  now  my 
boy  is  alive.  He  will  be  found  !  " 

Henry  Harris  looked  at  the  artist  with  wonder  ;  there 
was  a  new  light  in  his  eyes,  an  aspect  of  .confidence  ;  his 
patience  had  taken  the  colors  of  certainty.  "  Through  the 
years  on  years  since  then  it  all  comes  back  to  me,"  he  said — 
"  the  old  cabin  upon  the  mountain  slope,  the  brawling  brook 
down  one  side,  the  rocks  and  trees  and  waterfalls  I  roamed 
among,  the  distant  summits,  the  dense  forests.  I  can  almost 


176  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

hear  the  tinkle  of  the  cow-bells,  can  almost  smell  the  breath 
of  the  pines  upon  the  morning  air.  And  that  girl  Delira ; 
what  a  singular  name,  I  have  not  thought  ef  it  for  so  long  ! 
I  can  see  her  now  more  like  an  Indian  squaw  than  a  white 
woman,  with  tangled  black  hair,  coming  up  from  the  spring 
with  a  bucket  of  water  poised  on  her  shoulder —  " 

But  at  the  moment  he  spoke  a  messenger  handed  a  note 
to  the  artist  from  his  daughter.  He  read  it,  his  face  flushed, 
he  put  it,  after  hesitating  a  moment,  in  the  hands  of  his 
visitor,  saying,  "  I  thought  so  from  the  first."  The  note  was 
very  short. 

"  Dear  father,  you  will  have  opened  the  book  ;  you  will, 
before  this  reaches  your  hand,  have  read  the  letter  within  it," 
his  daughter  had  written  him  from  the  Exposition.  "  It  is 
many  months  ago  since  I  first  came  upon  and  read  the  paper, 
and  I  did  not  speak  of  it  because  I  was  trying  to  understand. 
I  remember  you  used  to  tell  me  of  your  stay  in  Virginia. 
There  are  scores  of  your  oldest  sketches  which  bear  the  same 
date  as  that  of  the  book  in  which  I  found  the  letter.  Dear 
father,  I  think  I  understand.  I  want  you  to  find  my  broth 
er."  That  was  all. 

The  artist  and  his  visitor  had  a  long  conversation  before 
they  parted,  and  the  next  evening  Henry  Harris  visited  him 
again  when  he  knew  that  Isidore  would  be  at  home.  The 
young  girl  blushed  and  turned  away  when  she  first  saw  him  ; 
but  their  visitor  soon  found  that  father  and  daughter  had 
arrived  at  a  perfect  understanding,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Henry  Harris  was  able  to  say  to  both,  "  I  think  I  can  help 
you.  At  least,  your  singular  faith  as  to  finding  your  son  and 
brother  has  infected  me  also.  We  do  not  have  even  a  name 
to  go  by.  The  man  doubtless  is,  as  his  mother  wrote,  more 
like  her,  whom  I  have  never  seen,  than  like  yourself,  Mr. 
Atchison.  He  may  be  dead.  If  he  is  living  and  in  France, 
it  is  more  than  probable  he  has  been,  is,  or  will  be  in  Paris 
during  the  Exposition.  It  is  my  custom  to  see,  so  far  as  I 
can,  every  person  I  pass.  I  know  that  it  is  only  the  merest 
chance  in  the  world,  and  yet  I  will  look  closely  at  people. 


THE  FEMALE  PHILOSOPHER.  177 

Who  knows  what  may  happen  ?  "  As  he  said  it  he  glanced 
at  Isidore.  Her  eyes  were  fastened  eagerly  upon  him.  Evi 
dently  a  new  purpose  had  come  into  her  own  life  also,  and 
her  gaze  had  fixed  itself  upon  their  visitor  as  upon  her  only 
hope  of  realizing  what  was  to  grow  with  her  into  a  consum 
ing  purpose  indeed.  She  hung  upon  him  with  an  expectation 
modestly  veiled,  yet  destined  to  become  more  and  more  in 
tense.  It  was  long  before  Henry  Harris  could  get  his  own 
consent  to  leave  his  new  friends. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  went 
down  the  stairs  at  last ;  "  but  she  is  not  at  all  like  my  sister, 
nor  like  Lady  Blanche — not  in  the  least.  But  isn't  it  the 
strangest  thing  in  the  world  that  I,  the  most  practical  of 
engineers,  should  have  become  engaged  in  such  a  hopeless 
search  ?  It  would  seem  improbable  in  a  dream  or  in  a  fiction  ; 
but  I  have  learned  that  by  far  the  most  wonderful  things  are 
those  which  take  place  in  daily  real  life." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE     FEMALE     PHILOSOPHER. 

THERE  are  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  in  Paris  many  obscure 
nooks  and  hiding-places  which  are  known  only  to  the  police. 
In  some  of  these  it  is  possible  that  even  the  police  have  never 
penetrated,  so  securely  are  they  concealed  in  the  labyrinth  of 
courts  and  alleys,  cellars  beneath  cellars,  and  passages  which 
seem  to  return  upon  themselves.  In  the  worst  of  these  lairs 
many  of  the  vermin  of  society,  the  pickpockets  and  burglars, 
the  counterfeiters  and  assassins,  have,  with  the  reptile-like 
adroitness  of  such  pests,  succeeded  in  living  long  lives  of 
crime  by  night  and  concealment  and  drunkenness  by  day. 

In  the  midst  of  this  district  there  was  a  suite  of  rooms 
known  to  those  who  frequented  it  as  Madame  Mosseline's. 
The  apartments  are  upon  the  fifth  flat  of  the  dilapidated 


178  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

house  ;  the  front  room  looking  down  upon  the  street  being, 
apparently,  devoted  to  millinery,  the  one  back  of  that  being 
the  bedroom  of  Madame  Mosseline,  the  milliner.  Apparent 
ly,  there  was  no  room  beyond  ;  but  a  heavy  wardrobe  in  the 
bed-chamber  of  Madame  revolved  upon  a  pivot,  and,  by 
means  of  an  entrance  thus  made,  some  twenty  men,  straying 
in  one  at  a  time,  contrived  to  assemble,  at  the  date  of  which 
we  are  now  speaking,  in  an  apartment  beyond. 

"Now,  messieurs,"  Madame  Mosseline  said  on  the  occa 
sion  spoken  of,  "  on  the  usual  conditions  you  can  say  what 
you  will."  The  persons  addressed  were  evidently  artisans. 
You  could  have  known  by  the  prevailing  pallor  of  their  faces 
that  their  occupation  was  sedentary,  and  that  they  had  but 
small  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  sunshine  and  the  open  air. 
From  the  fact  that  many  wore  spectacles  and  had  hands 
white  and  delicate,  you  could  have  guessed  that  their  labor 
was  that  of  ivory-turners,  grinders  of  optical  glasses,  the 
manufacturers  of  philosophical  instruments,  and  the  like. 
One  or  two  were  engravers.  There  was  one  young  man,  the 
only  fat  and  florid  one  among  them,  M.  Portou  by  name,  who 
was  a  composer,  as  he  styled  it,  of  anatomy,  his  occupation 
being  to  put  together  into  complete  skeletons  such  bones  as 
he  could  obtain.  Whatever  their  employment,  all  seemed 
to  be  alike  under  a  certain  restraint.  It  may  have  been  that 
the  room  was  cleaner  than  those  they  generally  occupied, 
for,  with  its  papered  walls,  polished  floor,  and  deal  table  of 
almost  snowy  whiteness,  it  was  severely  neat.  Possibly  the 
aspect  of  Madame  was  a  controlling  power.  She  was  a 
comely  woman  of  forty,  dressed  in  black,  with  a  certain  ar 
rangement  of  lawn  about  her  head  and  throat  which  gave 
her  the  aspect  of  a  nun,  although  a  more  thoroughly  wicked 
woman  it  would  be  hard  to  find. 

"  Upon  the  usual  conditions,  messieurs,"  she  said,  for  she 
was  seated  upon  a  high  chair  at  the  end  of  the  table,  a  pile 
of  sewing  upon  the  table  before  her,  "you  can  have  as 
much .  absinthe  or  any  other  drink  as  you  wish  ;  it  is  there 
for  pay,  on  the  table  ;  but  I  will  have  no  smoking.  If  any 


THE  FEMALE  PHILOSOPHER.  179 

one  spits  upon  the  floor  he  leaves,  never  to  return.  Be  per 
fectly  free  in  saying  what  you  will ;  but  you  shall  not  kill 
each  other,  not  here." 

"  But,  madame,"  demanded  the  anatomist,  "  how  do  we 
know  but  these  friends  of  yours  are  mouchards,  spies  of  the 
Government." 

"  They ! "  and  the  woman  suspended  her  sewing  to  cast 
a  pitying  eye  at  the  two  men  seated  at  the  table.  "  As  I 
told  you,  monsieur  the  articulator  of  bones,  they  are  cousins 
of  mine  from  Canada.  Their  association  has  been  with  pro 
vincials  of  their  own  country  and  with  barbarians  in  the 
United  States.  They  know  nothing,  and,  being  in  Paris, 
they  wish  to  learn.  In  that  all  is  said.  The  Government? 
What  cares  it  for  you  ?  You  are  not  petroleurs.  It  is  phi 
losophers  you  are.  Am  I  not  Madame  Mosseline  ?  For 
IIOAV  many  years  have  you  known  me  ?  Your  fat  makes  you 
foolish,  M.  Portou." 

There  was  a  laugh  among  the  leaner  kind  at  the  table, 
and  a  gaunt-visaged  maker  of  chessmen  said,  "  No,  we  are 
not  communards.  They  are  but  the  sparks,  we  are  the 
powder.  Yes,  they  are  red  ;  they  fill  the  eyes  of  the  world 
when  the  explosion  comes,  but  they  speedily  die  out  and  are 
no  more  seen.  It  is  we  who  think,  who  reason,  who  write, 
who  talk,  who  teach  the  masses  ;  we  it  is  who  do  the  work." 

"  It  is  always  so,"  remarked  a  beardless  man  whom  they 
addressed  as  Achilles  Deschards,  and  whose  very  black  hair 
and  eyes  and  noble  forehead  contrasted  strongly  with  a  face 
which  showed  traces  of  either  disease  or  debauchery  ;  "  you 
are  right,  Pilon.  Consider  Rome  in  the  hours  of  its  imperial 
glory.  The  emperors  led  their  armies,  conquered  the  world, 
returned  in  triumph.  The  city  was  filled  with  palaces  and 
wealth.  There  were  caravans  along  its  streets,  the  amphi 
theatre  was  crowded  with  spectators,  the  baths  with  sensual 
ists,  the  schools  with  philosophers.  All  was  grand,  magnifi 
cent,  lasting  as  the  universe — that  is,  as  the  surface.  But 
look  underneath  Rome  !  Consider  the  catacombs.  Hidden 
in  those  dark  vaults,  burrowing  beneath  the  gorgeous  show, 


180  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

was  the  despised  Christianity.  Tr&s  Men,  it  swept  the  Ro 
man  world  out  of  existence  !  " 

"As  we  will  destroy  Christianity  and  the  civilization  of 
to-day.  You  are  correct,  monsieur  our  poet.  It  is  we," 
Madame  Mosseline  continued,  "  who  toil  in  the  dark  because 
we  undermine  the  foundations  of  all  things.  Property,  gov 
ernment,  religion,  marriage,  morality,  whatever  constitutes 
society,  we  doom  them  to  the  death.  Behold  them,  the  pro 
vincials  !  "  She  pointed  her  hand,  encircled  by  lace  frills,  at 
her  cousins  and  laughed. 

The  Canadian  relatives  were  plain  but  intelligent-looking 
men,  coarse  as  their  clothing  was,  and  it  was  evident  that 
they  were  surprised  as  well  as  interested. 

"  Take  pity  upon  us,  madame,"  one  of  them  remarked  ; 
"  we  are  so  new  to  your  ideas.  It  is  that  we  are  here  for,  to 
learn." 

"  Monsieur  our  poet,  instruct  them,"  the  woman  remarked, 
contemptuously,  as  she  held  up  different  ribbons,  contrasting 
their  shades  of  color  before  disposing  of  them  upon  the 
work  she  had  in  hand. 

The  person  thus  addressed  drained  a  glass  of  brandy 
from  a  decanter  before  him,  and  glanced  around  the  board. 
Evidently  all  there  were  persons  of  the  same  class  ;  that  is, 
all  were  poor,  some  deeply  in  debt,  most  of  them  in  feeble 
health  from  dissipation  or  hard  work.  One  or  two  had  fallen 
asleep  as  they  sat,  their  heads  upon  the  table.  A  few  were 
playing  dominos  ;  some  were  listening,  with  eager  eyes.  To 
all  the  place  was  a  diversion  from  miserable  homes  which 
were  also  the  shops  in  which  they  worked.  They  were  there 
because  they  had  nowhere  else  to  go  ;  because  the  talk  was 
exciting ;  because  hope  of  some  change  in  the  eternal  mo 
notony  of  poorly  paid  toil  was  encouraged  there. 

"  To  all  of  us  it  is  an  old  story,"  the  poet  began,  after  a 
contemptuous  glance  at  the  strangers.  "That  you  may 
teach  Canada  and  the  United  States  when  you  return,  listen." 

The  Canadians  gave  him  a  respectful  attention,  and  he 
began  to  light  a  cigarette,  was  prohibited  by  the  uplifted 


THE  FEMALE  PHILOSOPHER,  181 

finger  of  Madame  Mosseline,  replaced  it  in  his  bosom  with  a 
grimace,  and  continued  : 

"  Know,  Messieurs  Provinciates,  that  by  an  eternal  pro 
cess  of  nature  all  things  grow  from  within  by  a  decay  of 
that  which  is  outward.  The  stalks,  the  leaves,  the  blossoms, 
have  their  day,  but  perish  as  the  inner  principle  develops. 
So  of  society  ;  the  Roman  Empire  was  at  one  time  but  a 
handful  of  slaves  dwelling  in  a  mud-walled  village,  but  it 
slowly  overmastered  the  world.  As  it  reached  its  culmina 
tion,  the  religion  of  Jesus,  working  out  of  sight  within  it,  in 
due  time  outgrew  it,  and  lo  !  the  imperial  glories  fell  from 
around  it  like  withering  blossoms  from  the  ripening  fruit. 
Shall  the  process  end  with  modern  civilization  ?  Not  at  all ; 
why  should  it  ?  Men  like  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  Marat,  were, 
more  than  a  century  ago,  the  germs  of  a  yet  higher  civili 
zation.  The  revolutions  of  1789,  of  1814, 1830, 1848,  the  wars 
of  Napoleon,  of  France  with  Germany,  all  events  are  but  the 
struggles  within  our  existing  order,  which  shall  destroy  it  as 
all  civilizations  have  been  destroyed  before.  Myself  and  my 
comrades,  we  represent  the  future.  The  English,  the  Ger 
mans,  the  Russians,  they  too — " 

"  No  !  "  thundered  the  maker  of  chessmen  ;  "  Russia, 
Germany,  England,  are  savage,  stupid  ;  it  is  France  which 
leavens  the  world  ;  France  !  England  is  flooded  with  radi 
cal  papers  ;  but  the  English — bah  !  they  are  stupefied  with 
beer  like  the  Germans  ;  they  are  slow,  oxen,  asses.  Russia 
is  stirring,  but  is  centuries  behind.  France  is  the  volcano 
whose  eruptions  convulse  the  planet." 

Even  before  he  had  ceased  to  speak  there  arose  a  babel 
of  interruptions.  Almost  every  man  had  something  to  say 
concerning  the  particular  oppression  under  which  he  groaned. 
They  were  loud,  eager,  almost  eloquent,  but  unanimous  only 
in  this,  that  society  as  it  existed  should  be  utterly  de 
stroyed.  It  was  some  time  before  the  poet  could  obtain  a 
hearing. 

"  We  have  stormed  civilization  until  it  is  driven  into  its 
last  intrenchments,"  he  said  at  last,  refreshing  himself  with 


182  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

a  glass  of  brandy.  "  Definitely,  it  lies  trembling  within  its 
inmost  citadel.  A  century  hence  our  children  will  need  to 
be  taught  as  to  what  is  meant  by  the  obsolete  phrases,  gov 
ernment,  religion,  property,  marriage — " 

"  Morality,  God,"  the  presiding  woman  completed  the  list 
for  him.  "Why  should  we  rave  and  roar?"  she  added, 
with  a  smile  ;  "  the  event  marches  upon  us.  As  surely  as 
the  sea  the  social  republic  makes  itself  to  arrive.  Let  us 
remain  quiet ;  let  us  keep  ourselves  washed,  and  well  dressed, 
and  at  peace  ;  with  us  and  without  us  approaches  the  end. 
The  canaille  erect  barricades,  and  bleed,  and  get  sent  to 
Cayenne.  It  is  people  like  ourselves  who  inspire  the  com 
munards,  but  do  not  soil  or  fatigue  ourselves.  We  ?  Are 
not  we  the  aristocrats  of  the  movement  ?  We  destroy  the 
world,  but  we  remain  Monsieur  and  Madame.  Recite  to  us 
a  poem,  monsieur  our  poet." 

The  request  awoke  an  applauding  urgency,  to  which  the 
poet  yielded  at  last.  Drawing  from  his  breast-pocket,  he  pro 
ceeded  to  rehearse,  with  abundant  gesticulation,  such  lines 
'  in  ridicule  and  denunciation  of  everything  decent  people 
hold  dear  as  caused  the  eyes  of  the  Canadians  to  be  fastened 
upon  the  table.  Once  or  twice  they  ventured  to  glance  at 
the  woman  at  the  head  of  the  table.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  she  could  be  a  woman  and  endure  the  atrocity  ;  but  she 
sewed  steadily  on,  with  a  smile.  Almost  every  man  present 
had  his  jest,  when  the  lines  were  ended,  at  something  sacred. 
It  was  all  that  the  Canadians  could  do  to  keep  their  seats, 
the  profligacy  of  sentiment,  the  blasphemy,  was  such.  Ma 
dame  Mosseline,  maintaining  her  nun-like  aspect,  seemed  to 
take  malicious  pleasure  in  the  evident  discomfiture  of  her 
cousins,  but  the  seance  was  ended  at  last. 

"  I  have  read  of  the  eruption  of  mud  volcanoes,"  one  of 
the  Canadians  remarked  to  his  friend,  as  they  walked  rapidly 
away  afterward,  "  but  I  never  witnessed  it  before." 

"  And  I  am  eager  for  a  bath  and  clean  linen,"  replied  the 
other.  "  It  is  worse,  I  must  confess,  than  I  had  supposed. 
When  we  recover  from  the  nausea  of  it,  I  think  we  will 


THE  ANATOMIST.  183 

agree,  my  lord,  that  it  was  worth  even  the  heavy  sum  also 
which  we  had  to  pay  the  female  ogre." 

"  Having  attempted  to  fathom  the  depths,  I  intend  to  go 
through  with  it.  I  will  call  at  your  hotel,"  his  companion 
added,  "  as  soon  as  I  am  recovered  a  bit,  and  we  will  consult 
as  to  our  next  plunge  into  the  mire." 

"  Next  time,"  his  friend  replied,  "  our  adventure  will  be 
at  least  more  instructive.  We  can  enjoy  that  consolation 
anyhow.  But  out  of  all  in  the  room  there  were  three  per 
sons  whom  I  was  more  interested  in,  by  far,  than  in  anything 
which  was  said,"  added  Henry  Harris,  for  such  he  was. 

"Who  were  they?"  asked  Lord  Conyngham,  for  such 
was  the  other. 

"  In  Madame  Beelzebub,  in  the  fat-featured  M.  Portou, 
and,  most  of  all,  in  the  man  they  styled  the  poet,  Achilles 
Deschards.  I  watch  people  very  closely,  as  I  do  machinery, 
and,  depend  on  it,  I  will  tell  you  remarkable  things  some 
day  in  regard  to  these  three." 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

THE    ANATOMIST. 

"  You  seem  to  notice  everybody  you  pass,"  Lord  Conyng 
ham  said  to  Henry  Harris  one  day,  soon  after  their  visit  to 
the  house  of  Madame  Mosseline,  as  they  happened  to  be 
strolling  along  a  boulevard  together. 

"  Certainly  I  do,  so  far  as  I  can,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  never  do,"  his  companion  replied.  "  People  are  cur 
rent  with  me  as  pennies  are — I  never  recognize  one  from 
another,  unless  I  know  them  very  well ;  and  I  do  not  know 
anybody,  when  I  can  help  it,  unless  I  like  him."  But  the 
nobleman  was  vaguely  conscious  as  he  said  it  that  it  was  a 
narrow  folly  and  weakness  upon  his  part  which  he  must  out 
grow. 


184  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"I  know  of  nothing  quite  so  interesting  to  me,"  the 
American  replied,  "  as  men  and  women,  and  in  each  person 
I  find  a  new  and  peculiar  interest.  Did  you  observe,  for 
instance,  the  obscene  Frenchman  who  read  that  abominable 
poem  at  Madame  Mosseline's  ?  " 

"  Only  to  see  that  he  was  a  dissipated  rascal,  with  long, 
black  hair,  and  dark  rings  under  his  rather  fine  eyes,"  said 
the  other. 

"Would  you  know  M.  Portou,  the  sleepy-looking  and 
fat  anatomist  whom  we  saw  there,  if  you  should  meet  him 
again  ?  " 

"Assuredly  not,"  the  nobleman  replied,  in  accents  like 
those  of  his  father,  the  Earl. 

Henry  Harris  said  no  more,  and  the  conversation  changed. 
Since  he  had  learned  that  the  lost  son  of  Zerah  Atchison 
might  be  in  Paris,  young  Harris  had  glanced  with  additional 
sharpness  at  the  people  he  met.  It  was  as  if  a  problem  had 
been  propounded  to  him  in  machinery  ;  here  was  a  some 
thing  to  be  solved  if  possible.  "  I  may  not  hit  upon  it,"  he 
thought,  "  but  then  again  I  may.  Mr.  Atchison  is  an  inva 
lid,  the  daughter  is  closely  confined,  they  have  not  a  friend, 
apparently,  in  the  world  ;  if  I  can  find  the  man,  I  will." 
And  he  had  his  reason  for  asking  Lord  Conyngham  in  re 
gard  to  the  men  whom  they  had  seen  at  Madame  Mosse 
line's.  For  now,  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  parted  from  his 
companion,  he  turned  suddenly  upon  his  heel,  and,  looking 
full  in  the  face  of  a  man  who  had  been  following  him,  he 
said,  in  French,  "  Well,  M.  Portou,  what  is  it  ?  " 

The  gentleman  spoken  to  had  on  blue  spectacles,  carried 
a  baggy  umbrella  under  his  arm,  was  like  a  thousand  other 
of  the  bourgeoisie,  a  linen  draper,  possibly  a  confectioner  or 
tobacconist,  a  good  father  of  a  family  in  all  probability. 
He  looked  at  the  American  with  surprise.  "Did  you  ad 
dress  yourself  to  me,  monsieur  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Is  there  not 
some  mistake  ?  Whom  have  I  the  honor  to  speak  to  ?  " 

"  M.  Portou,  I  believe,"  the  American  said,  firmly.  He 
did  not  inform  the  other  that  he  knew  how,  every  day  since 


THE  ANATOMIST.  185 

they  had  met  at  Madame  Mosseline's,  this  fatherly-looking 
man  had  followed  him  about  ;  he  merely  looked  at  him 
steadily  and  without  speaking.  There  must  have  been 
something  in  the  unflinching  gaze  of  the  American  which 
acted  upon  the  other  as  the  sun  does  upon  a  fog.  Certain  it 
is  that  the  innocently  mystified  air  of  the  florid  Frenchman 
changed. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And  this  is  monsieur 
the  Canadian.  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  Allow  me  the 
honor  of  your  hand."  He  shook  hands  with  him  cordially, 
and  they  talked  in  an  amicable  manner  as  they  walked  on. 

"  I  observed  at  the  time  that,  although  present  and  tak 
ing  some  part  in  the  seance,  you  are  not  yourself  a  social 
ist,"  Henry  Harris  said  at  length.  M.  Portou  colored, 
seemed  to  be  for  a  moment  embarrassed.  "  No,  monsieur," 
he  said  at  last,  as  with  sudden  frankness,  "  like  yourself,  I 
am  no  Red  Republican,  either  philosophic  or  practical." 

"  And  you  are  an  anatomist  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  the  man  answered,  eagerly  ;  "  we 
are  but  a  square  from  my  little  shop.  If  monsieur  will  have 
the  goodness  to  accompany  me,  beyond  a  slight  odor,  the 
place  is  not  an  unpleasant  one.  Will  you  go  ?  " 

Henry  Harris  had  his  reasons,  and  conversing  indifferently 
upon  many  matters,  the  two  arrived  at  last  at  a  basement 
room  upon  a  side  street.  In  the  windows  were  displayed 
a  small  collection  of  stuffed  birds,  a  crocodile,  a  monkey, 
and  a  wild-cat,  also  stuffed.  When,  unlocking  the  door, 
the  owner  had  entered  with  his  companion,  a  medley  of 
objects  appeared  arranged  upon  shelves — a  pair  of  elephant 
tusks,  the  head  of  a  hippopotamus,  a  human  skeleton,  a 
Tasmanian  devil  in  the  act  of  fighting  with  a  kangaroo, 
both  admirably  preserved,  a  number  of  living  parrots  and 
canary  birds,  while  boxes  of  bones  filled  the  corners  and 
gave  forth  a  smell  as  of  the  sepulchre. 

The  visitor  examined  the  collection  with  unusual  inter 
est,  asking  many  and  minute  questions,  all  of  which  were 
answered  readily  and  with  some  pride.  Now  that  the  pro- 


186  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

prietor  had  laid  aside  hat,  umbrella,  overcoat,  and  spectacles, 
he  was  the  same  florid-complexioned,  closely  shaven,  dull- 
visaged,  slumberous-mannered  man  he  had  seemed  to  be 
at  the  house  of  Madame  Mosseline.  While  the  two  were 
conversing  together  upon  natural  history,  young  Harris 
was  saying  to  himself,  "  I  have  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  you 
are  no  more  an  anatomist  than  you  are  a  socialist,  but  this 
will  do  for  the  present." 

"  Frankly,  M.  Portou,"  he  said  aloud  at  last,  and  after 
further  conversation,  "  I  have  no  concealments.  Like  your 
self,  I  am  curious  in  reference  to  the  Commune.  I  am  an 
American  engineer  ;  my  name  is  at  your  service,"  and  he 
handed  the  other  his  card.  "  Whatever  you  may  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  is,  of  course,  confidential.  You  are  thor 
oughly  informed  ;  what  are  the  chances  of  the  Republic  ?  " 
The  speaker  might  have  saved  himself  the  trouble  to  say  all 
this  ;  the  anatomist  was  perfectly  informed  in  regard  to  him 
already,  but  he  entered  now  with  great  cordiality  into  fur 
ther  conversation.  One  thing  led  to  another,  but  this  was 
the  opinion  of  the  anatomist  upon  the  whole  :  The  Ameri 
can  Republic  was  a  glorious  success  because  of  the  peculiar 
ity  of  its  size  and  isolated  situation.  Doubtless  it  had  before 
it  a  yet  more  glorious  future,  "  although,  candidly,  I  have 
my  fears,"  M.  Portou  said.  But  it  was  folly  to  reason  from 
America  when  France  was  concerned.  The  traditions,  cus 
toms,  opinions,  surroundings,  of  the  French  were  wholly  dif 
ferent.  A  permanent  republic  in  France  was  out  of  the 
question.  It  was  purely  a  matter  of  a  few  years  at  longest. 
The  exiled  communists  would  be  brought  back.  Every  day 
the  press  would  become  bolder.  Socialism  was  infecting  the 
republicans  with  its  leprosy.  Any  day  France  would  have 
to  choose  between  the  red  anarchy  on  one  side  or  the  benef 
icent  return  of  authority.  It  might  be  Henry  V.  Possibly 
the  Empire  might  be  reestablished. 

"  But  the  Republic  ?  No,  never.  In  America  ?  Yes. 
In  France  ?  Never,"  cried  M.  Portou. 

"  With  us,"  Henry  Harris  said,  after  much  more  conver- 


THE  ANATOMIST.  187 

sation,  "  the  public  school  is  the  hope  of  freedom,"  and  he 
spoke  fully  upon  that  theme.  The  anatomist  listened  with 
great  politeness. 

"  I  acknowledge  it  all,"  he  said  in  the  end,  and  with  en 
thusiasm.  "  It  is  wonderful ;  for  America  it  is  admirable  ! 
But  it  will  not  do,  pardon  me,  monsieur,  for  France,"  and  he 
described  with  great  particularity  the  Government  schools  of 
France,  from  the  primary  upward,  gymnasiums,  colleges,  uni 
versities.  According  to  him  the  instructors  were  ignorant, 
and  taught  without  ardor  and  purely  for  pay.  In  many  of 
the  schools  shocking  immorality  prevailed.  There  was  not 
one  in  which  the  most  disorganizing  doctrines  were  not  al 
lowed. 

"  I  am  but  an  anatomist,"  M.  Portou  said,  finally,  with 
modest  self-depreciation,  "  and  I  consider  it  in  a  purely  pe 
cuniary  point  of  view.  Say  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  Breth 
ren  of  Christian  Doctrine  are  superstitious,  behind  the  age;  at 
least,  they  teach  cheaply.  Having  no  family  to  support,  these 
good  men  can  do  the  work  for  less  than  a  third  of  what 
others  would  demand,"  and  he  entered  into  quite  a  detail  of 
the  number  and  excellence  of  the  clerical  schools  throughout 
France.  It  was  a  question  which  was  soon  to  strike  France 
to  its  center,  and  the  listener  was  deeply  interested. 

The  American  arose  at  last  to  go.  He  had  been  greatly 
interested,  and  promised  to  call  again.  Before  leaving  he 
turned  the  conversation  for  a  moment  upon  Madame  Mosse- 
line,  studying  carelessly  but  attentively  the  face  of  the  other 
as  he  did  so.  "  Yes,"  M.  Portou  assented,  "  she  is  a  remark 
able  woman.  Did  ever  so  unprincipled  a  female  preserve 
such  a  neatness,  such  an  almost  Puritan  order,  in  the  exter 
nals  of  her  place  ?  Only  in  the  externals,  alas  !  It  was  too 
horrible  !  "  The  American  looked  closely  at  the  dull  visage 
before  him  ;  the  eyes  had  fallen  ;  there  was  a  curious  twitch 
ing  about  the  corners  of  M.  Portou's  mouth  ;  there  was  some 
thing  in  him,  in  a  word,  which  the  visitor  failed  to  under 
stand.  He  deferred  it  to  the  future,  and  spoke  of  the  de 
praved  poet  who  had  seemed  to  be  the  idol  of  the  club. 


188  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

As  he  mentioned  him,  the  man  himself  came  into  the  shop. 
The  American  looked  at  him  sharply,  but  cautiously.  He 
was  of  an  exceedingly  fragile  build,  with  a  noble  head  and 
wonderful  eyes,  but  evidently  given  over  to  dissolute  courses. 
He  was  well  dressed,  had  inky  stains  upon  his  fingers,  and 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  master  of  himself.  But  Henry  Har 
ris  made  his  adieus  and  left.  After  going  a  square,  he  called 
a  carriage,  gave  the  driver  a  direction,  and  got  in. 

"  I  will  drop  in  upon  the  artists,"  he  thought ;  "  but  I  will 
say  nothing  whatever  as  yet.  It  must  be  impossible.  In  any 
case,  I  will  get  a  good  look  at  the  old  artist,  at  his  daughter 
especially.  Who  can  tell  what  may  come  of  it  ?  And  you 
say  that  people  are  not  worth  looking  at,"  he  said,  with  ref 
erence  to  Lord  Conyngham  ;  "  your  lordship  will  come  to 
know  that,  really,  people  in  this  world  are  the  only  things  in 
it  worth  studying." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE    OLD   ARTIST. 

WHEN  Henry  Harris  left  the  ill-smelling  shop  of  M.  Por- 
tou,  the  anatomist,  he  thought  of  many  things  as  he  rolled 
rapidly  along  in  the  vehicle  which  bore  him  to  the  house  of 
Zerah  Atchison.  He  was  one  of  those  natural  leaders  to 
whom  a  hunting  party  among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  a 
company  out  on  a  blackberrying  expedition  among  the  stone 
fences  of  Vermont,  would  have  yielded  itself  as  sponta 
neously  as  did  the  workmen  of  his  father's  shop  when  any 
thing  old  among  the  machinery  had  broken  or  anything  new 
had  to  be  devised  to  meet  an  emergency.  Notwithstanding 
his  knowledge  of  society  and  pride  of  blood,  Lord  Conyng 
ham  had  submitted  himself  to  the  guidance  of  his  American 
friend  as  he  had  not  done  to  that  of  his  stately  father  or  his 
proud  sister.  Now,  Zerah  Atchison  and  his  charming  daugh 
ter  also  were  passing  into  the  care  of  Henry  Harris.  He  had 


THE  OLD  ARTIST.  189 

no  more  an  intention  to  lay  his  grasp  upon  them  than  they 
had  to  intrude  upon  his  kindness  ;  but  so  it  was  :  the  wood 
did  not  surrender  itself  more  willingly  to  the  adroit  carving 
of  the  father,  or  the  clay  to  the  molding  of  the  daughter, 
than  did  father  and  daughter  to  the  hands  of  their  new 
friend. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  footstep  upon  their  threshold 
Isidore  Atchison  threw  the  cloth  she  kept  ready  for  the 
purpose  over  the  clay  she  was  at  work  upon,  and  turned  to 
a  smaller  and  lower  stand  on  which  was  what  seemed  to  be 
a  sleeping  Cupid.  It  was  a  mere  sketch  as  yet,  altogether 
in  the  rough  so  far  ;  but  she  busied  herself  upon  it  with  hur 
ried  hands  as  Henry  Harris  came  into  the  room.  The  visi 
tor  cast  one  glance  at  her,  and  then,  after  the  usual  saluta 
tions,  he  turned  to  the  old  artist. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  surprised  at  me,"  the  latter  remarked, 
painting  steadily  on  upon  what  seemed  to  be  a  portrait ;  "but 
I  can  not  give  up  as  yet  the  dreams  of  my  life.  Of  course, 
I  know  that  I  can  not  reach  anything  approaching  perfec 
tion  as  a  painter.  I  know,  too,  that  my  highest  success  is  in 
wood-carving.  No  one  will  buy  my  pictures,  while,  thanks 
to  your  mother,  your  sister,  and  yourself,  I  dispose  of  all  I 
can  carve.  But  I  can  not  help  it." 

"  Your  pictures  are  far  from  bad,"  his  visitor  hastened  to 
assure  him.  "Besides,  you  remember  that  Thackeray  de 
spised  his  pen  in  comparison  to  his  brush.  No  one  knows 
anything  about  his  pictures,  while  we  all  recognize  his  genius 
in  his  books.  Does  our  life  ever  flow  as  we  would  have  it  ?  " 

"Never  ;  but  it  is  because  it  is  ordered  by  a  wisdom 
greater  than  our  own.  There  is  this  excuse  for  me,"  the  ar 
tist  added,  "that,  of  late,  our  hearts  have  turned  toward  our 
lost  boy,  our  Valentine,  for  that  is  the  name  I  have  given 
him.  I  am  trying  to  put  on  canvas  what  I  remember  of  his 
mother,  of  Delira." 

"And  you,"  Mr.  Harris  said  to  Isidore,  as  he  inspected 
her  work,  "are  endeavoring  to  reproduce  your  brother  as 
you  imagine  he  might  have  been  when  a  child." 


190  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  am  only  trying,"  she  said  ;  "  and  my  work 
is  too  vague,  as  it  is  purely  a  fancy  sketch,  of  course.  Yet, 
is  it  not  strange  ?  both  my  father  and  myself,  and  without 
saying  a  word  to  each  other,  have  been,  since  you  were  here, 
possessed  by  the  same  thought.  We  do  not  know  that  he  is 
in  France.  It  is  very  uncertain  whether  he  is  living.  Even 
if  he  is  alive,  who  can  tell  what  kind  of  a  man  he  may  be  ?  " 

Her  head  drooped  lower  over  her  work,  and  her  visitor 
asked  of  himself :  "  I  wonder  if  she  does  not  moisten  her 
clay  with  her  tears?"  But  he  said  nothing,  continuing 
quiet,  almost  cold,  in  his  manner. 

"  How  singularly  like  his  wise  mother  !  "  the  girl,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  saying  to  herself.  Meanwhile  the  gentleman 
considered  the  clay  growing  into  life  under  her  small,  quick 
hand  with  great  care,  glancing  from  it  to  the  canvas  upon 
which  her  father  had  not  ceased  to  toil. 

"  I  paint  purely  from  my  memory  of  the  mother,  of  De- 
lira.  I  never  knew  her  other  name.  You  see,"  the  old  man 
said,  "  that  I  am  making  her  almost  a  red  Indian.  Since  I 
have  thought,  of  her  at  all,  her  face  has  come  to  me  with  as 
tonishing  distinctness,  as  they  say  a  language  learned  when 
young  does  to  the  old  and  to  the  dying,  although  unused  for 
scores  of  years.  I  could  hardly  see  her  more  distinctly  were 
she  actually  before  me." 

"  But  may  not  she  herself  be  living  ?  "  his  visitor  asked, 
after  glancing  at  the  daughter. 

"  Yes,  she  is  living,"  the  artist  said,  gravely  ;  "  I  am  as 
sure  of  that  as  I  am  that  her  son  also  is  alive." 

But  the  visitor  had  ceased  to  study  the  work  of  the  ar 
tist  ;  he  was  studying  the  father  and  daughter  instead.  "  She 
has  reproduced  her  father  in  marble,"  he  thought ;  "  repro 
duced  him  perfectly,  because  he  is  one  whom  the  memory 
holds  as  perfectly  and  as  unchangingly  as  does  the  marble. 
You  can  no  more  forget  his  aspect  of  sublime  patience  than 
you  can  forget  the  womanly  devotion  which  transfigures 
her."  The  girl  must  have  felt  how  fixedly  his  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  her,  for  the  color  slowly  came  to  her  cheek 


THE  OLD  ARTIST.  191 

and  brow.  The  gazer  could  not  but  have  observed  it,  but 
he  gave  no  sign.  In  fact,  under  pretext  of  examining  her 
work  more  thoroughly,  he  placed  himself  opposite  her  upon 
the  other  side  of  it,  and  seemed  to  the  old  artist  to  be  study 
ing  her  instead. 

"  You  see  that  she  is  of  the  purely  Greek  type,"  her  fa 
ther  said,  quietly,  at  last.  "  Now,  your  sister,"  he  continued, 
as  his  visitor  looked  hastily  up,  "  is  wide  between  the  brows 
instead  ;  her  forehead  is  low  and  broad,  calm  and  sweet  and 
strong.  That  is  the  German  type.  Canova  recreated  the 
Venus  into  that,  but  it  is  not  the  Aphrodite  of  Phidias  ;  it  is 
Minerva  laying  off  her  helmet  to  put  on  the  cestus.  I  was 
telling  Isidore  of  it,  how  Lady  Blanche — "  the  eyes  of  the 
gentleman  addressed  grew  bright  at  the  name  ;  the  girl  saw 
it  as  she  worked.  "  Yes,"  added  the  artist,  in  a  slow,  critical 
tone,  "  she,  Lady  Blanche,  is  Juno  ;  an  English  Juno,  you 
know.  Let  me  see  :  Apelles  painted  his  Venus  from  the 
seven  loveliest  virgins  of  Greece.  Now,  into  the  composi 
tion  of  Lady  Blanche  has  gone,  Boadicea  as  a  basis  ;  a  little, 
not  much,  of  the  mother  of  Alfred  the  Great,  a  good  deal  of 
Queen  Bess,  something  of  Mary  of  Scots.  Did  you  ever 
think,  Mr.  Harris,"  he  demanded  suddenly,  "  how  much  of 
the  blood  of  the  cruel  Norman,  William  the  Conqueror,  is  in 
her?  Yes,  and  of  the  dark,  fierce  Danes,  too,  of  the  old 
pirate  days  ?  " 

"  O  father  !  "  Isidore  exclaimed,  and  added,  "  You  must 
excuse  him,  sir,  it  is  the  force  of  habit.  If  Queen  Victoria 
were  to  come  in,  it  would  be  only  with  the  criticising  eyes  of 
an  artist  that  he  would  regard  her  Majesty.  Dear  father,  I 
am  used  to  it ;  but  people  do  not  like,"  she  begged,  with  a 
beseeching  look,  "to  be  considered  in  that  way.  Lady 
Blanche  is  not  a  marble." 

"  Do  you  think  not  ?  "  the  old  man  meditated,  with  sus 
pended  brush.  "  Joan  of  Arc — Charlotte  Corday — the  Maid 
of  Saragossa — Madame  Roland — they  are  all  of  the  Juno 
type.  Look  at  this  engraving  of  Maria  Theresa,"  drawing 
it  from  a  portfolio  at  his  side  and  laying  it  on  his  knee.  "  Do 
9 


192  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

you  see  the  bend  of  the  neck,  the  curve  of  the  lip  answering 
to  that  of  the  brow,  the  nose,  the  ears  even  ?  That  is  the 
Empress  Blanche  also.  Look  here  a  moment."  The  enthu 
siast  reversed  the  engraving  and  made  with  a  crayon  a  few 
swift  curves  upon  the  back  of  it,  which  was  blank.  "  Who 
is  that  like  ?  "  and  he  held  it  up. 

"  It  is  very  much  like  the  English  lady  of  whom  you  have 
spoken,  very  much  indeed,"  said  Henry  Harris,  and  his  tones 
were  more  indifferent  than  his  eyes  ;  and  he  added,  "  When 
ever  you  intend  a  queen,  you  always  fall  into  those  regal 
curves,  do  you  ?  " 

"Always,  unless  it  be  the  Queen  of  Love  one  attempts, 
or  Pallas.  There  are  seven  distinct  rays,  Mr.  Harris,  in  the 
spectrum  of  the  sun.  There  are  as  many  in  the  types  of 
woman.  So  of  man.  Lady  Blanche — I  speak  purely  as  an 
artist,"  the  old  man  went  on,  disregarding  the  appealing 
glances  of  his  daughter,  "  is  as  brave  as  her  brother.  Braver 
— that  is,  she  would  dare  and  do  where  even  her  own  broth 
er  would  hesitate.  When  need  was,  Juno  defied  even  Jupi 
ter.  Lady  Blanche,  if  victory  required,  would  storm  a  bas 
tion.  What  is  the  name  of  that  poor  duke  who  was  with 
her  here  the  other  day  ?  Plymouth  ?  Yes,  that  is  it,  the 
Duke  of  Plymouth.  Sir,"  said  the  artist,  "if  the  emergency 
demanded  it  of  Lady  Blanche,  she,  although  of  all  women 
she  must  despise  him  most,  yes,  sir,  she  would  marry  even 
that  man  !  "  He  was  looking,  as  he  said  it,  full  in  the  eyes 
of  his  visitor,  so  unabashed  was  he  in  his  artless  art.  Once 
the  gentleman  to  whom  he  spoke  had  seen  a  locomotive  dash, 
silently  and  suddenly,  upon  him  from  around  a  curve.  Then 
he  sprang  aside  in  time  ;  now  he  had  to  stand  still  and  take 
the  unbroken  onset  of  the  placid  but  terrible  speaker.  The 
young  girl  dared  not  look  up  from  her  work.  She  winced 
instinctively,  so  well  did  she  know  the  force  of  the  blow. 
Her  hands  were  halted  for  the  moment  from  the  clay  before 
her,  were  reached  out  to  the  wounded  man — not  in  reality, 
only  in  sympathy  inexpressible. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "     It  was  all  that  Henry  Harris  said, 


DANGEROUS  WAYS.  193 

bleeding  inwardly,  but  allowing  no  emotion  to  show  itself. 
His  manner  became  colder  than  he  was  aware.  After  a  few 
words  in  regard  to  the  picture  upon  which  the  artist  was  en 
gaged,  and  others  in  reference  to  the  Exposition  and  art  in 
general,  he  took  his  leave. 

"  O  father,  how  could  you  ! "  It  was  all  Isidore  Atchison 
could  say,  and  then  she  began  to  cry  silently.  But  her  fa 
ther  was  looking  at  her  work  with  astonishment.  It  had 
altered  its  whole  appearance.  "  Why,  my  child,"  he  said  at 
last,  "  that  could  not  be  your  brother  ;  it  is  not  even  a  boy. 
You  have  made  it  a  likeness  of  Mr.  Harris  instead  ! " 

The  poor  girl  did  not  know  it ;  she  flushed,  swept  rapid 
hands  over  the  face  of  the  image,  but,  instead  of  continuing 
to  cry,  she  broke  into  a  laugh.  It  was  merry,  but  not  glad. 
Not  being  Minerva,  the  poor  girl  did  not  observe  until  that 
moment  what  she  had  been  about.  She  flushed  as  Venus 
might  have  done  ;  but  Juno  herself  could  not  have  swept  her 
hands  more  ruthlessly  over  the  features  of  the  clay.  Then 
she  ceased  to  laugh  and  began  to  cry. 

"  I  was  unconsciously  making  studies  for  my  '  Purpose,' " 
she  said,  in  a  beseeching  way,  as  she  lifted  a  corner  of  the 
cloth  covering  the  other  stand  and  glanced  at  a  head  beneath 
which  strongly  resembled  their  visitor  ;  "  but  I  will  not  work 
any  more  to-day,"  she  added,  and  went  into  her  own  room. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

DANGEROUS     WAYS. 

"  MY  son,"  George  Harris  said  one  day  to  Henry  when 
they  were  alone  together,  "  it  is  time  you  were  married. 
Choose  your  own  wife,  and  I  will  take  you  as  an  equal  part 
ner  with  me  in  my  business,  which  must  before  very  long 
pass  entirely  into  your  hands  with  half  of  my  property.  But, 
remember  what  I  say  to  you  now,  as  I  say  it  in  my  will :  so 


194  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

long  as  your  mother  lives,  everything  is  as  thoroughly  hers 
as  it  has  been  since  we  were  married.  You  know  my  con 
viction  is  that  it  takes  a  man  and  a  woman  to  make  a  com 
plete  person  ;  '  male  and  female  made  He  them,'  Scripture 
says.  Your  mother  and  myself  have  always  consulted  each 
other  at  every  step,  have  had  no  secrets  from  each  other 
since  we  were  engaged  to  be  married.  Poor  enough  we  were 
then,  and  our  absolute  unity  has  been  the  chief  cause  of  my 
success,  of  our  unbroken  happiness,  of  the  development  of 
her  character  and  mine,  of  all  that  your  sister  and  yourself 
are  and  ever  will  be.  Marry  whoever  you  please,  marry 
whenever  you  please  ;  but  you  had  better  never  marry  unless 
it  be  upon  a  basis  like  that." 

It  was  on  this  account,  and  because  he  had  rarely  con 
cealed  anything  from  his  mother,  that  Henry  Harris,  when 
riding  one  day  in  a  carnage  with  only  his  mother,  spoke 
frankly  and  fully  to  her  concerning — not  himself,  but — Lord 
Conyngham  and  Mary !  "  He  and  I  have  been  associated 
closely  together  for  some  time  now,"  he  said,  "  and  he  has 
told  me,  as  he  has  told  her,  his  whole  heart.  He  is  thor 
oughly  in  love  with  Mary,  is  determined  to  marry  her  if  she 
will  consent.  Apart  from  his  rank,  I  could  not  desire  a  bet 
ter  husband  for  her.  Apart  from  the  mannerisms  of  his 
position  and  training,  he  is  a  simple-hearted,  manly  fellow." 

All  this  was  nothing  new  to  the  mother,  of  course.  It  was 
Mary's  habit  to  make  a  confidant  rather  of  her  father  than 
her  mother,  but  father  and  mother  had  already  conferred 
with  each  other  in  regard  to  the  matter. 

"  We  would  decidedly  rather  she  should  marry  an  Ameri 
can,"  Mrs.  Harris  remarked  in  the  end.  "  If  it  must  be  an 
Englishman,  we  would  prefer  that  he  should  be  anything 
almost  that  was  honorable  rather  than  a  nobleman.  With 
your  father  and  myself,  as  it  must  be  with  you,  that  is  a 
serious  objection.  Mary  is  as  worthy  as  any  Englishwoman 
can  be  of  the  highest  rank,  but  she — " 

"  Is  not  born  to  the  peerage,"  her  son  interrupted  his  mo 
ther.  "  You  know  how  she  has  teased  me  by  quoting  Tenny- 


DANGEROUS  WAYS.  195 

son's  '  Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere  '  to  me.  Well,  I  read  to  her 
yesterday  the  Laureate's  '  Lord  of  Burleigh.'  You  remember 
that  in  it  a  village  maiden  marries  one  whom  she  supposes 
to  be  a  poor  landscape  painter,  and  who,  to  her  horror,  turns 
out  to  be  a  lord.  Yes,  I  put  a  solemn  warning  into  it  as  I 
read  the  frightful  result.  It  was  after  the  marriage,  remem 
ber : 

"  'So  she  strove  against  her  weakness, 
Though  at  times  her  spirit  sank, 
Shaped  her  heart  with  woman's  meekness 

To  all  duties  of  her  rank ; 
And  a  gentle  consort  made  he, 

And  her  noble  mind  was  such, 
That  she  grew  a  noble  lady, 

And  the  people  loved  her  much. 
But  a  trouble  weighed  upon  her, 

And  perplexed  her  night  and  morn, 
With  the  burden  of  an  honor 
Unto  which  she  was  not  born.' 

Then  follows  the  sad  story  of  how  she  pined  away  and  died. 
I  read  it,"  Henry  continued,  "  in  a  way  to  draw  tears  almost 
from  the  eyes  of  Hassan  Pasha  even,  but  she  knew  it  all  by 
heart  before,  and  I  fear  it  did  not  have  the  least  effect." 

"  I  understand,"  Mrs.  Harris  said.  She  smiled,  but  it  was 
very  gravely.  "  Mary  is  dazzled  by  his  rank,  especially  by 
what  it  will  be  when  the  old  Earl  is  dead." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  Her  son  appeared  to  be  astonished 
and  almost  shocked. 

"  There  is  no  better  girl  than  Mary,  nor  a  more  sensible 
one,"  the  mother  said,  calmly;  "  but  she  is  only  a  woman,  and, 
like  every  other  woman  alive,  she  can  not  help  coveting  a 
coronet.  To  be  a  peeress,  and  of  such  an  ancient  and  illus 
trious  house,  is  the  most  splendid  position,  that  of  a  queen 
excepted,  in  the  world.  In  addition  to,  and  as  part  of  this, 
Mary  knows  that  she  would  live  in  the  highest  and  most 
brilliant  society  on  earth,  would  have  castles  and  palaces  in 
possession,  would  be  a  leader  of  fashion  in  all  the  capitals  of 


196  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

Europe,  would  be  flattered,  envied.  It  is  not  in  mortal 
strength  that  she  should  resist." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  her  son  said,  with  an  air  of 
disappointment ;  "  but  what  Lord  Conyngham  says  is  that  it 
is  his  career  in  politics  which  will,  he  hopes,  interest  her  in 
him.  Since  he  knew  her  he  has  become  as  ambitious,  he 
tells  me,  as  Lucifer.  He  intends  to  take  an  energetic  part  in 
Parliament,  and  it  is  astonishing  what  a  change  has  been 
wrought  in  him  of  late.  He  used  to  be  little  more  than  a 
fop  and  an  epicure  ;  not  so  now.  He  is  investigating  com 
munism  with  me,  but  that  is  merely  a  part  of  his  efforts. 
Lady  Blanche  tells  me  that  she  can  hardly  get  him  away 
from  his  books.  He  is  studying  up  India,  Ireland,  the  Turk 
ish  Empire ;  every  land  in  the  world  in  which  England  is 
specially  interested.  I  believe,  too,  he  knows  more  than  I 
do  of  agriculture,  land  tenure,  free  trade,  finance,  and  all 
such  subjects.  He  tells  me  that  he  has  had  the  most  valu 
able  suggestions  from  Mary,  that  she  has  inspired  him  with 
the  purpose  of  his  life.  I  do  not  doubt  it.  They  talk  for 
hours  together  upon  the  impending  changes  in  England  and 
Europe.  That  is  all  very  well,  but,  bless  me,  they  are  in 
love  with  each  other  !  Of  course,  it  is  all  very  praiseworthy, 
but  love  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all." 

"  For  one  who  knows  of  love  merely  by  observing  your 
sister  and  her  lover,  you  are  very  wise,"  his  mother  remarked, 
demurely,  while  her  son  colored  a  little.  "  Yes,"  Mrs.  Hams 
continued,  "  Mary  is  naturally  dazzled,  unconscious  as  she  is 
of  it,  by  Lord  Conyngham's  rank.  She  is  sincerely  interested 
in  his  ambitions,  and  she  is  capable  of  becoming  to  him  all " 
— the  mother  added,  with  all  a  mother's  partiality — "  that 
Lady  Palmerston,  Lady  Russell,  Madame  Roland,  were  to 
their  husbands  ;  that  is,  she  will  be  a  very  efficient  help  to 
ward  his  political  success.  Most  of  all,  Mary  is,  as  you  say, 
in  love  with  the  man  who  is  so  heartily  in  love  with  her. 
Nothing  more  natural.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  they  would 
make  a  happy  couple  if  they  were  left  to  themselves.  It  is 
the  influence  that  will  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him  that  I 


DANGEROUS   WAYS.  197 

justly  dread.  The  Earl  will  never  consent,  nor,  I  think," 
and  the  face  of  Mrs.  Harris  grew  very  grave,  "  will  Lady 
Blanche  really  and  heartily  approve.  There  will  be  hosts  of 
persons  in  England  who  will  oppose  the  match  with  their 
utmost  influence  ;  persons,  too,  who  are  not  without  a  certain 
right  to  speak.  If  the  question  were  brought,  like  the  mar 
riage  of  a  son  of  Victoria,  into  Parliament — "  Mrs.  Harris 
said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Whatever  the  House  of  Commons  would  do,  the  House 
of  Lords,"  her  son  added,  with  a  laugh,  for  her,  "  would  vote 
it  down  unanimously,  no  doubt  of  that  !  The  Earl  occupies 
so  high  a  place  in  the  peerage.  Do  you  think,"  he  asked, 
"  that  the  Queen  would  approve  of  the  marriage  ?  " 

"  Frankly,  I  do  not.  Victoria,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  "  is  an 
excellent  and  sensible  woman,  but,  with  almost  the  entire 
nobility  of  England,  she,  and  it  is  natural,  is  becoming,  may 
I  say  it  ?  jealous  of  America  and  of  intrusive  Americans. 
Our  kindly  feeling  toward  Russia,  our  prosperity,  the  un 
settled  nature  of  many  things  in  England,  the  excessive  and 
increasing  influence  of  America  there  as  elsewhere,  alarms 
them.  No,"  Mrs.  Harris  added,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  do  not 
think  her  Majesty  would  recommend  the  match  to  Parlia 
ment  in  a  speech  from  the  throne.  It  would  be  a  severe  test 
for  Mary,"  the  mother  continued,  more  seriously.  "  She 
would  have,  as  Lady  Conyngham,  to  face  and  conquer  an 
almost  unanimous  hostility  ! "  But  her  son  smiled  to  him 
self,  observing  how  his  mother  lifted  her  head  more  proudly, 
how  her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  said  it. 

"  My  daughter  could  do  it,"  the  mother  added,  quietly, 
but  with  a  tinge  of  new  color  in  her  cheeks  ;  "  she  could  do 
it,  but  it  might  wreck  her  happiness.  Henry,"  she  con 
tinued,  still  more  calmly,  a  few  moments  after,  "  let  us  wait. 
When  we  are  called  upon  to  act  we  will  know  what  to  do. 
However  Mary  may  set  her  heart  upon  anything,  so  far,  at 
least,  she  has  always  yielded  to  the  judgment  of  her  father 
and  myself." 

But  neither  the  son  nor  the  mother  felt  satisfied  ;  no  such 


198  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

test  as  this  had  been  applied  to  the  young  girl  hitherto,  nor 
anything  comparable  to  it.  Both  felt  that  it  was  the  gravest 
question  which  had  ever  as  yet  come  up  in  their  experience. 

"  My  son,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  after  a  while,  "  the  globe  is 
turning  under  us  all  the  time  very  swiftly.  Ever  since  we 
were  born  it  has  been  flying  also  with  still  more  terrific  speed 
into  the  immeasurable  and  unknown  depths  of  space.  Did 
it  ever  occur  to  you  to  try  and  stop  the  planet,  or  to  change 
either  its  speed  or  its  direction  ?  " 

"  As  Earl  Dorrington  says  so  often,  assuredly  not,"  the 
other  replied,  knowing  what  was  to  come. 

"  When  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  do  in  anything,  our 
wisdom,"  his  mother  added,  "  is  to  cease  trying.  I  dare  say 
that  Heaven  is  as  wise  as  it  is  irresistible  in  all  its  doings,  in 
the  least  as  the  greatest.  But,"  and  she  turned  her  loving 
eyes  upon  her  son,  seated  fronting  her  in  the  carriage,  "  your 
father  and  myself  are  as  anxious  about  you  as  we  are  about 
your  sister." 

"About  me!"  he  exclaimed ;,  but  he  knew  what  she 
meant  as  he  said  it,  and  a  long  and  serious  conversation 
ensued.  Having  entered  upon  the  subject,  he  found  himself 
almost  swept  away  by  it.  "  I  have  always  been  frank  with 
you,"  he  said  in  the  end,  and  with  fervor.  "  Lady  Blanche 
is  superior  to  any  woman  I  know.  I  admire  and  love  her 
as  much  as  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  love  and  admire  any 
woman.  Do  you  know,  I  think  she — well — she  is  not  wholly 
without  interest  in  me.  The  Duke  of  Plymouth  is  desper 
ately  in  love  with  her  too.  Poor  fellow,  I  can  sympathize 
with  him.  Every  influence  will  be  in  his  favor  and  against 
me.  We  love  each  other  more  ardently  than — I  mean," 
Henry  Harris  corrected  himself  in  confusion,  "  that  I  love 
her  more  than  Lord  Conyngham  can  love  Mary  ;  his  nature 
and  mine  are  different.  But  I  am  not  going  to  urge  her  to 
what  she  may  regret.  And,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
gravity,  "  I  am  not  a  child,  nor  do  I  intend  to  go  into  either 
raptures  or  into  desperations,  like  one  of  these  convulsive 
Frenchmen.  I  intend  to  remain,  whatever  befalls,  master  of 


ACHILLES  DESCHARDS.  199 

myself,  I  hope.  As  to  Mary  and  her  lover,  the  way  seems  to 
be  plainer.  Mine  is  a  more  difficult  case  than  theirs — far 
more  !  I  would  have  spoken  to  you  about  it,  but  there  is 
nothing  you  can  tell  me  that  I  do  not  already  know.  You 
spoke  about  the  swift,  irresistible  course  of  the  globe.  I  feel 
as  if  she  or  I  were  speeding  on  to  some  terrible  crash  in  the 
end.  But  what  can  I  do  ?  Lady  Blanche  is  out  of  the  usual 
race  of  women.  She  is  like — like  a  lioness,  and  that  is  why 
I  love  her.  She  is  the  one  woman  in  all  the  world  to  live,  if 
need  be  to  die,  for.  But  please  do  not  let  us  talk  about  it ; 
I  would  rather  not  ! "  It  was  said  in  the  most  loving  and 
respectful  tones,  but  Margaret  Harris  had  never  known  her 
son  to  be  as  decided  in  his  manner.  She  looked  at  him  with 
grave  concern,  but  the  conversation  was  turned  upon  other 
subjects. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

ACHILLES     DESCHARDS. 

HENRY  HARRIS  had  his  own  reasons  for  dropping  in  now 
and  then  upon  M.  Portou,  the  anatomist,  and  it  was  through 
him  that  he  became  well  acquainted  at  last  with  Achilles 
Deschards,  the  profligate  poet  whom  he  had  first  met  at  the 
rooms  of  Madame  Mosseline.  "  That  man,"  the  American 
explained  to  Lord  Conyngham  one  afternoon  at  the  Bodega, 
and  pointing  out  the  young  Frenchman  to  him  on  the  other 
side  of  the  gorgeous  room,  "  that  man  is  worth  studying. 
You  saw  him  once  before,  but  observe  more  closely  his  fine 
forehead,  his  splendid  eyes  under  his  profusion  of  black  hair, 
his  hard  and  dissolute  air.  He,  sir,  is  a  specimen  of  the  lit 
erary  bandit  of  the  day.  He  wields  a  swift  and  exceedingly 
sharp  pen  precisely  as  the  bravo  of  Italy  used  to  wield  sword 
and  dagger,  to  kill  whomsoever  he  is  paid  to  slay.  Enlist  him 
by  cash  enough,  and  he  will  defend  you  and  your  party  and 
attack  your  foes  with  equal  and  astonishing  power.  You 


200  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

may  be  a  Legitimist,  an  Orleanist,  a  Napoleonist,  an  adherent 
of  M.  Gambetta  ;  it  is  all  one  to  him.  Take  him  into  your 
pay,  and  until  some  other  party  pays  him  still  more  to  betray 
you,  he  will  do  you  faithful  service  through  the  press.  He 
has  a  vivid  imagination,  writes  perfect  French,  is  thoroughly 
read  up  on  every  topic,  is  absolutely  without  principles  of 
any  sort  whatever ;  is  a  Bohemian  in  the  worst  sense  of  the 
word — Gypsy,  sbirri,  literary  thug." 

"  Such  men  are  the  curse  of  France,  I  would  think,"  Lord 
Conyngham  replied  ;  "  I  have  heard  of  them,  but,  until  we 
met  him  at  Madame  Mosseline's,  I  had  not  seen  a  specimen 
of  the  species.  Let  us  have  a  talk  with  him  ; "  and  in  a  lit 
tle  while  the  nobleman  would  have  seriously  compromised 
himself  by  entering  into  conversation  with  Deschards,  but 
his  friend  promptly  prevented  him  and  told  him  why. 

"  That  is  an  advantage  I  have  over  you,  my  lord,"  he 
said,  with  a  laugh  ;  "  as  an  engineer,  especially  as  an  Amer 
ican,  I  can  be  seen  with  any  man,  of  every  sort  of  character 
or  no  character,  anywhere  and  everywhere  in  the  wide  world, 
and  no  one  would  regard  it  as  anything  but  natural ;  but 
unless  disguised  as  Tom  Perkins  you  can  not." 

With  a  gesture  of  impatient  assent  the  nobleman  turned 
away,  and  in  ten  minutes  afterward  Henry  Harris  was  con 
versing  with  Achilles  Deschards  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Bodega,  and  as  naturally  as  if  they  had  been  the  sworn 
friends  of  a  lifetime. 

"  When  I  saw  you  at  that  accursed  Madame  Mosseline's," 
the  Frenchman  was  saying  to  him,  "  I  knew  you  were  Amer 
icans,  but  not  Canadians.  You  can  tell  a  Canadian  by  his 
halfness,  so  to  speak  ;  he  is  neither  English  nor  American, 
and  having  no  independent  nationality  he  has  no  strong  per 
sonality  of  his  own.  As  a  citizen  of  the  Great  Republic  you, 
au  contraire,  have  in  yourself  the  assurance,  pardonnez-moi, 
of  your  aggressive  flag." 

"  I  thank  you,"  the  other  began,  but  the  Frenchman  placed 
himself  in  front  of  the  American,  laid  his  fragile  hand  upon 
his  arm,  looked  keenly  at  him  with  his  hawk-like  eyes,  and 


ACHILLES  DESCHARDS.  201 

dashed  on  so  rapidly  that  one  less  familiar  with  French  than 
Henry  Harris  would  have  found  it  impossible  to  keep  up  with 
him. 

"  You  Yankees,"  the  Bohemian  said,  "  carry  your  prairies 
in  your  aspect ;  your  Mississippi  flows  in  your  veins  also.  It 
is  not  only  that  you  are  hurled  as  upon  your  Niagara  against 
Europe  ;  the  boundless  future  of  your  land  breaks  over  and 
sweeps  away  all  limits  to  your  personal  plans  also.  The  Ro 
mans  marched  everywhere  to  chain  the  world  down  beneath 
their  sway ;  the  Rome  of  to-day  is  America,  but,  monsieur, 
the  Americans  go  abroad  to  unchain  the  peoples  instead. 
You,  sir,  are  the  universal  and  energetic  solvent  of  the  age." 

Henry  Harris  was  not  at  all  flattered.  He  was  too  well 
aware  that  with  Deschards  such  phrases  were  but  the  wares 
of  his  trade  ;  that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  this  literary 
corsair  could  and  would  slay  everything  American  as  with 
the  scimetar  of  his  tongue  or  pen,  provided  money  was  to  be 
made  thereby. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so  savagely  of  Madame  Mosseline  ?  " 
was  all  that  Henry  Harris  replied.  "  I  supposed  the  night  I 
saw  you  there  that  you  were — " 

"  A  petroleur,  a  Red  ?  I  was  as  much  so  as  my  name 
sake  Achilles  was  a  woman  when  disguised  as  such  in  the 
court  of  Lycomedes.  No,  monsieur,  I  was  there,"  the  other 
continued  with  a  bow,  "  only  as  you  were  there.  You  do 
not  love  the  Social  Republic  ?  Very  good  ;  but  I  detest  it 
more  than  you  possibly  can.  J'avais  mes  raisons ;  M. 
Harrees,  in  me  you  behold,"  and  the  speaker  suddenly 
assumed  a  solemn  air,  "  a  Catholic.  Recall,  I  beg  of  you, 
the  massacre  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  ask  of  yourself 
what  I  think  of  the  Commune." 

The  American  glanced  at  the  other  with  astonishment. 
It  was  as  when  an  acrobat  turns  a  somersault  so  swiftly  as  to 
take  away  one's  breath.  Could  it  be  that  the  hollow  cheeks, 
the  dark  rings  under  the  eyes,  the  premature  age  of  one  who 
seemed  otherwise  young  ;  could  it  be  that  what  had  seemed 
to  be  the  ravages  of  dissipation  were  the  results,  instead,  of 


202  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ascetic  fastings  and  macerations  in  some  lonely  cell  ?  The 
aspect  of  the  Frenchman  had  become  as  in  an  instant  that  of 
a  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne,  that  of  an  inquisitor  even.  But, 
then,  this  very  man  had  read  the  atrocious  lines  at  the  social 
ist  club  of  Madame  Mosseline,  had  read  them  with  too  much 
zest  not  to  have  originated  them  in  his  own  brilliant  but  foul 
imagination. 

"I  see  that  you  are  perplexed.  It  is,"  the  versatile 
Frenchman  said,  with  almost  pity,  "because  you  have  not 
wholly  laid  aside  the  Canadian.  I  also,  monsieur,  I  also  was 
constrained  to  disguise  myself  when  among  those  sheep  of 
darkness.  Que  voulez  vous  ?  Could  I  retain  my  fleece,  white 
as  the  snow  ?  No  ;  you  saw  our  friend  M.  Portou,  the 
anatomist,  there.  He,  you  have  learned,  was  not  a  Red,  nor 
was  the  friend  who  came  with  you,  nor  were  you.  Distrust 
appearances,  monsieur.  I  a  Communist !  It  will  suffice  to 
the  Almighty  hereafter  to  turn  them  into  a  hell  wherein  is  no 
fire.  Incendiaries  !  Each  bears  enough  of  fire  within  him 
self  to  kindle  the  flames  of  Gehenna.  Yet  why  do  I  say  so  ? 
Alas  !  poor  fools,  I  pity  them  instead." 

For  once  the  American  was  fairly  puzzled.  He  knew  the 
tribe  to  which  his  companion  belonged.  Louis  Veuillot,  the 
savage  ultramontane  editor  of  "  L'TJnivers,"  was,  he  knew, 
but  a  variation  upon  Paul  Cassagnac,  the  yet  more  brutal 
Napoleonist  writer  ;  and  this  sharp-featured  Frenchman  was 
as  able  and  audacious  as  these  without  being  hampered  by 
any  conviction  whatever.  He  knew  that  this  Achilles  Des- 
chards  was  a  type  of  a  class  of  editors — writers  for  the  press, 
at  least — no  longer  confined  to  Europe.  A  similar  species, 
he  had  been  told,  had  sprung  up,  of  late,  in  America  also. 
On  his  visits  to  Nevada  and  California  he  had  seen  despera 
does  who  were  dreaded  for  their  deadly  skill  with  rifle,  re 
volver,  and  bowie-knife,  and  he  knew  that  desperadoes  of  the 
press  were  beginning  to  outstrip  these — in  America,  too — by 
their  more  pitiless  and  terrible  skill  with  the  pen.  For  this 
reason  he  was  the  more  anxious  to  study  Deschards,  as  be 
longing  to  the  original  type.  But  he  was  sorely  perplexed 


HERE  ZOODLEPLAUNTCH.  203 

also.  The  changes  in  this  Proteus  were  somewhat  too  swift. 
The  other  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts. 

"  You  will  find,"  he  said,  "  that  we  Parisians  are  not  shal 
low  because  we  are  sparkling.  M.  Portou,  for  instance — you 
mistook  him  ;  you  mistook  me." 

"M.  Deschards,"  the  American  replied,  gravely,  even 
coldly,  "  I  may  have  a  prof ounder  knowledge  of  our  friend 
the  anatomist  than  you  are  aware.  As  to  yourself,  sir,  un 
less  I  greatly  mistake,  you  are — "  Henry  Harris  paused  a 
moment  ;  he  had  a  very  important  task  in  hand  toward  the 
other,  and  he  had  long  ago  learned  to  proceed  with  caution. 
When  it  was  a  question  of  steam  and  iron  there  were  certain 
invariable  laws,  but  not  so  when  a  man  was  concerned  ;  at 
least,  although  the  laws  of  the  human  heart  are  unchange 
able,  his  knowledge  of  them  was  too  slight  to  allow  him  to 
act  rashly  ;  therefore  he  arrested  himself  for  the  present,  and 
said  instead,  "You  are,  M.  Deschards,  unless  I  err,  one  of 
the  ablest  and  most  effective  of  writers  ;  "  and,  with  a  slight 
bow,  he  rejoined  Lord  Conyngham. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

HERE   ZOODLErLAUNTCH. 

THEEE  must  have  been  something  in  connection  with  the 
game  of  billiards  at  Earl  Dorrington's,  already  recorded, 
which  smote  Henry  Harris  also  even  harder  than  the  ivory 
balls  had  been  smitten,  for,  in  a  few  days  thereafter,  he  had 
disappeared  from  Paris,  accompanied  by  Lord  Conyngham, 
between  whom  and  himself  there  was  every  day  a  firmer 
friendship.  So  much  were  they  together  that  a  companion 
ship  had  sprung  up  between  their  servants  likewise. 

"  Yes,  I  likes  mine  master,"  Toffski,  the  moujik,  said  to 
Judkins,  the  valet  of  the  young  nobleman,  as  they  talked 


204  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

together  in  the  cars  which  were  conveying  all  four  on  this 
occasion  into  Germany.  "  For  one  thing  I  not  like  him." 

"  Hif  his  lordship  would  henjoy  himself  has  hother  gen 
tlemen  do,"  Judkins  replied,  "hi  would  not  complain  ;  'e 
might  drink,  gamble,  go  hon  larks  hof  every  sort  hand  hi 
would  not  care.  But  I  hasks  myself,  why  should  a  noble 
man  go  has  'e  does  h among  the  ragtag  and  bobtail,  the  de 
graded  lower  borders  ?  Hit  his  'orrible  !  But  what  his  the 
matter  with  your  governor  ?  " 

"  In  my  country,  in  Russia,  master  beats  a  moujik  with 
big  stick  ;  every  master  every  man.  No  stick  for  me.  My 
little  father  not  beat  me  once,"  the  other  complained,  shaking 
his  head  sorrowfully,  "  not  even  throw  boot  at  me.  Where 
we  going  now  ?  " 

Lord  Conyngham  chanced  to  be  asking  the  same  question 
at  the  same  moment  of  his  friend.  "  I  have  read  up  the 
German  socialists  a  little,"  he  said,  "  in  the  '  Social  Demokrat,' 
and  my  German  is  better  than  my  French  ;  but  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I  can  understand  what  they  are  up  to." 

"  Nor  I.  We  will  try  Planitz,  in  Saxony,  and  see,"  his 
companion  replied.  "  I  know  Herr  Puttrich,  who  is  a  leader 
among  them.  He  will  gain  us  admittance  into  one  of  their 
societies.  For  years  I  have  tried  to  make  out  what  they  are 
after.  It  is  like  trying  to  fix  upon  some  definite  and  inva 
riable  shape  for  the  froth  of  a  mug  of  lager  or  the  smoke  of 
a  meerschaum.  This  time  I  will  learn  the  thing  to  the  bot 
tom,  if  possible.  We  go  to  Saxony  because  political  offend 
ers  are  allowed  pen,  ink,  and  paper  in  the  jails  of  Saxony  and 
in  few  other  German  prisons.  Communists  speak,  therefore, 
more  boldly  in  Planitz,  because,  if  imprisoned,  they  can  pro 
claim  from  behind  their  bars  what  martyrs  and  heroes  they 
are." 

It  was  in  pursuance  of  this  purpose  that,  a  few  nights 
after,  the  friends,  dressed  as  is  common  to  German  students, 
found  themselves  in  the  hall  used  by  the  socialists  of  Planitz. 
A  long  table  ran  from  end  to  end  of  the  apartment,  plenti 
fully  supplied  with  glasses  of  lager  and  other  kinds  of  drink, 


HERE  ZOODLEPLAUNTCH.  205 

the  waiters  hurrying  in  and  out  with  pretzels,  tobacco,  and 
yet  more  lager  in  response  to  the  thirsty  clamor  of  the  heavy 
glasses  knocked  upon  the  table.  Lord  Conyngham  had  fur 
nished  himself  with,  perhaps,  the  largest  meerschaum  in  the 
room,  but  neither  he  nor  his  friend  could  keep  up  with  the 
others  in  their  glasses.  For  a  time  their  attention  was  di 
verted  from  the  talk  going  on  among  the  heavily  bearded, 
purple-visaged,  square-shouldered  Germans  among  whom 
they  were. 

"One  thing  is  plain,"  Henry  Harris  said,  in  English  and 
in  a  whisper,  to  his  companion  at  his  side,  "  these  men  know 
with  perfect  certainty  that  a  change  is  impending  in  Ger 
many.  They  are  in  dead  earnest,  are  sincere  patriots  most 
of  them,  tremendous  students.  There  are  more  steady  think 
ing,  solid  learning,  deliberate  purpose  in  this  room  than  in 
all  French  communism  put  together.  That  young  fellow  is 
Geib,  of  whom  you  have  heard.  The  dogged-looking  Ger 
man  opposite  is  Mosh,  the  reddest  republican  of  them  all. 
Yonder  is  Liebknecht.  The  man  with  the  blue  necktie  is 
Bebel.  They  are  comparatively  moderate.  Karl  Marx,  at 
the  end  of  the  board,  is  the  leading  socialist,  as  you  have 
read.  It  will  try  our  patience  to  the  utmost.  Now  for  it." 

At  this  moment  Herr  Puttrich  begged  to  be  heard.  He 
kept  his  seat,  nor  did  his  pipe  interfere  with  his  remarks. 

"  What  I  must  urge  upon  you,"  he  said  in  German,  "  is 
that  the  strategic  point  of  our  campaign  lies  undoubtedly 
in  the  matter  of  the  Knappschaftskassen,"  and  he  entered  at 
length  into  a  history  of  the  Insurance  Association  of  Miners 
thus  referred  to,  and  of  the  wrongs  toward  it  of  the  Govern 
ment.  To  the  visitors  the  matter  seemed  tangled  and  tedious 
beyond  measure,  but  every  German  there  smoked  and  lis 
tened,  drank  and  listened,  with  profound  attention  to  the  end. 

When  he  was  through,  they  barkened  with  equal  fixedness 
to  Bebel,  who  proceeded  to  demonstrate  the  fact  that  the  en 
ergies  of  ambition  were  taking  a  wholly  new  direction.  Once 
men  had  gone  by  millions  into  the  Crusades.  Again,  when 
aroused  by  the  discoveries  of  Columbus,  they  had  rushed  into 


206  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  finding  of  new  worlds  across  the  seas.  Under  Cortez  and 
Pizarro  the  search  for  gold  had  been  the  mania,  repeating 
itself  in  the  case  of  the  tulip  insanity  of  Holland,  the  South 
Sea  Bubble  of  France.  In  the  days  of  Napoleon,  as  of  Char 
lemagne  and  Tamerlane,  conquest  had  been  the  rage  of  the 
hour.  Under  and  after  Luther  religion  had  been  the  absorb 
ing  topic  of  thought  and  of  action.  "  To-day  it  is  industry," 
argued  the  speaker.  "  Aided  by  machinery,  the  quickened 
energies  of  Europe  are  given  to  the  accumulation  thus  of  vast 
wealth.  Now,  whatever  the  passion  of  the  hour  heretofore, 
it  has  resulted  in  the  subjection  of  the  many  to  the  despotism 
of  the  few.  Henceforth  our  capitalists  will  be  our  kings,  our 
Neros.  It  is  against  them  we  must  fight.  And  how  ?  The 
state  must  be  supreme.  It  must  own  and  work  every  rail 
way,  telegraph,  factory,  workshop,  as  well  as  all  schools  and 
colleges.  Abolishing  indirect  taxes  and  standing  armies,  it 
must  grasp  and  wield  as  its  only  soldiers  the  children  of  the 
public  schools,  the  laborers,  the  money,  the —  " 

But  Bebel  was  broken  in  upon  by  Mosh,  the  Red  Social 
ist.  His  meerschaum  did  not  prevent  his  earnest  protest 
against  this  as,  at  least,  the  finality.  He  could  smoke  between 
sentences,  and  the  puffs  came  from  his  lips  like  those  from  a 
cannon  in  battle  as  he  proceeded  to  show  that  even  the  state 
is  but  a  transition  to  the  individual.  "  The  many  principali 
ties  of  Germany  had  united  at  last  in  the  Empire.  What 
was  that  but  a  preparation  for  a  confederated  republic,  such 
as  those  of  Switzerland  and  America  ?  The  American  Repub 
lic,  it,  too,  must  perish.  Upon  its  ruins  would  stand  the  Indi 
vidual.  Every  man  shall  yet  be  absolutely  free,  free  to  speak, 
think,  feel,  act ;  in  himself  and  over  himself  sole  czar  and 
sovereign.  That  was  the  grand  result,  every  man  his  own 
empire,  monarchy,  republic,  state.  Why  not  accept  and  aim 
at  the  ultimate  result  of  the  ages  at  once  ?  "  Much  discussion 
followed  thereupon. 

Since  America  had  been  mentioned,  Herr  Puttrich  stated 
at  length  that  a  friend  of  his,  an  American,  was  present,  with 
the  name  of  whose  father,  the  railway  king,  they  were  all 


HERE  ZOODLEPLAUNTCH.  207 

familiar.  Perhaps  he  would  speak.  Henry  Harris  had  not 
bargained  for  this  ;  he  doubted  if  his  German  was  sufficient 
to  the  task,  but  he  accepted  the  work  and  arose.  With  great 
modesty  he  spoke  of  his  inexperience,  then  of  the  vast  emi 
gration  of  Germans  to  America,  and  of  the  benefit  they  were 
to  the  country.  He  heartily  agreed  with  Herr  Mosh  as  to 
the  fact  that,  at  last,  the  individual  was  the  supreme  result 
of  all  government,  as  of  all  civilization.  History  existed  for 
and  culminated  in  the  individual  man  or  woman. 

"  And  I  hope  that  every  one  agrees  with  me  in  this  also," 
he  added,  speaking  slowly  and  using  his  best  German.  "  The 
absolute  freedom  of  the  individual  is  the  distinctive  doctrine 
of  American  freedom,  its  essence,  quintessence.  By  individ 
ual  freedom  I  mean  individual  self-government.  It  is  that 
which  has  made  us  all  we  are,  which  is  enabling  us  to  mold, 
may  I  say  it  ?  the  race  into  our  image.  What  is  this  per 
sonal  freedom,  this  self-government,  so  new  to  the  world,  so 
powerful,  so  prosperous  ?  Here  is  no  theory  ;  it  is  matter  of 
simple  fact.  It  is  that  no  man  can  be  absolutely  free  in  and 
of  and  by  himself,  free  apart  from  government  of  every  kind, 
empire  or  republic,  to  and  of  himself  until — until  the  indi 
vidual  enthrones  in  his  bosom,  as  supreme  master  of  his  every 
thought,  that  Power  which  alone  is  the  sole,  rightful,  su 
preme  authority." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  was  asked  by  many  about  the  table 
as  he  paused. 

"It  is,"  said  the  American,  deliberately,  "the  God  who 
made  him,  the  Son  of  God  who  died  to  save  him.  That  is 
American  freedom  ! " 

The  words  were  listened  to  with  deepest  attention  ;  they 
were  spoken  calmly,  clearly,  and  with  the  force  of  certainty. 
The  last  sentence  struck  the  intellect  of  all  present,  because 
the  instinct  of  the  conscience  accepted  it.  More  still,  because 
it  was  weighted,  as  well  as  illumined,  with  the  almost  super 
natural  grandeur,  success,  and  acknowledged  future  of  that 
America  represented  by  the  speaker,  which  is  every  day, 
and  more  and  more,  as  every  man  present  acknowledged, 


208  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  haven,  and  hope,  and  revolutionizing  force  of  the 
world. 

A  vast  deal  of  argument  followed,  eveiy  man  eager  to 
establish  his  own  view.  The  conflict  of  theories  culminated 
at  last  in  one  dissenter,  Herr  Zoodleplauntch.  He  was  un 
like  the  solid,  thoughtful  Germans  about  him  in  that  he  was 
tall  and  cadaverous.  Although  he  was  not  fat — far  from  it — 
it  was  not  because  he  did  not  irrigate  his  leanness  as  with  a 
Nile,  deep  and  unceasing,  of  lager.  His  hair,  long  and  thin, 
hung  down  his  shoulders,  but  his  gaunt  face  was  almost 
beardless,  his  small,  keen  eyes  glittering  with  restless  excite 
ment. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  he  now  exclaimed,  in  repudiation  of  what 
the  American  had  said,  and  with  violence  springing  to  his 
feet  and  brandishing  his  long  arms,  "  that  was  the  baby  talk 
of  the  ages  past.  Martin  Luther  said  that.  But  we  ?  We 
are  centuries  beyond  such  childish  nonsense.  America? 
America  was  born  but  yesterday,  and  we  intend  to  change 
America.  We  are  grown  to  be  men."  The  speaker  drew 
himself  up.  "  Look,"  and  he  waved  his  hand,  "  at  Berlin.  It 
has  a  million  of  inhabitants,  with  but  one  hundred  and  ten 
clergymen,  Catholic  and  Protestant.  Enter  their  churches 
on  Sunday.  Behold  a  desert !  There  is  not  an  average  of 
a  hundred  worshipers  to  each,  and  these  at  the  morning  ser 
vice  only.  Kaiser  Wilhelm  still  believes,  because  he  is  old, 
very  old.  We  have  advanced  since  1872.  Since  then — " 

"Has  not  crime,"  the  American  interrupted,  "increased 
more  than  fifty  per  cent,  since  then  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  exclaimed  the  socialist,  "  because  we  are  in  a  state 
of  transition.  We  hasten  toward  perfection.  The  ancients 
sang  mournfully  of  a  golden  age  in  the  past.  It  was  a  myth. 
Man  began  with  a  microscopic  infusoria.  During  the  lapse 
of  myriads  of  aeons  he  developed  upward  through  the  ascidian 
into  at  last  the  ape.  Through  innumerable  years  he  evolved 
from  the  ape  into  the  savage  of  the  age  of  stone.  Then  came 
periods  of  further  tutelage  under  government  of  kings  or 
republics.  His  infancy  has  required  to  be  nurtured  in  the 


HERR  ZOODLEPLAUNTCH.  209 

cradle  of  the  family  institution,  of  religion.  But,"  and  Herr 
Zoodleplauntch  lifted  the  eyes  and  eager  hands  as  of  a  prophet 
toward  the  future,  "  man  approaches  at  last  his  glorious  des 
tiny.  Already  is  he  treading  under  his  feet  governments  of 
all  kinds  whatever.  Throwing  off  the  swaddling-clothes  of 
the  family,  of  religion  in  whatsoever  form,"  and  he  threw 
out  his  hands  on  either  side  as  if  casting  away  filth,  "  he 
stands  erect  at  last.  What  need  has  he  of  God  ?  Strong, 
wise,  knowing  all  things,  sufficient  in  himself,  under  no  law 
but  of  his  own  pleasure,  man  comes  at  last  to  be  supreme. 
The  God  of  theology  ?  Feuerbach  well  says  it  is  but  the 
shadow  projected  upon  the  infinite  by  man  himself.  With 
Comte  I  worship  only  humanity  ;  unlike  Comte,  it  is  the  in 
dividual  I  adore,  not  the  aggregate.  Look  upon  me,"  and  the 
philosopher  loomed  through  the  dense  fog  of  tobacco-smoke 
like  the  specter  of  the  Brocken,  with  disheveled  locks,  gaunt 
and  ghastly,  his  arms  folded  upon  his  breast.  "  I  am  the  di 
vinity  :  I  worship  and  adore  thee,  O  Zoodleplauntch,  as,"  and 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  bowed  his  head,  "  the  only  God.  As 
God,"  he  added,  lifting  up  a  wrathful  face,  "  I  henceforth 
doom  to  swift  destruction  not  Christianity  alone,  but  all  re 
ligion.  The  citadel  of  superstition  is  the  Christian  Sabbath. 
You  insult  me  with  speaking  of  your  Sabbath,  your  babyish 
Sabbath,"  and  the  speaker  paused  through  intensity  of  un 
speakable  scorn. 

Now  there  chanced  to  sit  beside  the  deity  in  question  a 
grave  and  sedate  burgomaster,  whose  pipe  was  a  wonder  of 
art,  as  it  was  of  size,  an  heirloom  and  a  treasure.  During 
all  the  oratory  he  had  smoked  steadily  on,  as  if  that  were 
the  only  occupation,  as  it  pretty  much  was,  of  his  existence. 
With  slow,  almost  rhythmic,  puff  he  listened  still  as  Herr 
Zoodleplauntch  added,  "  The  Sabbath  ?  Listen.  When  our 
great  Hermann  destroyed  the  legions  of  Rome  at  Wenfeldt, 
Octavius  Caesar  dashed  his  head  against  the  wall,  exclaiming, 
'  Give  me  back  my  legions,  Varus  ! '  To-day  we  wage  a 
greater  war  with  Rome,  with  Geneva,  with  America.  Soon, 
very  soon,  will  these  lament,  and  lament  in  vain,  '  Give  us 


210  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

back  our  Sunday,  O  Teutons.'  For  swiftly  are  we  demol 
ishing,  in  America  also,  the  accursed  Sunday.  Delenda  estf" 
As  he  said  it  he  brought  down  his  long  right  arm  with 
such  energy  as  to  smite  the  pipe  from  the  lips  of  his  neigh 
bor,  dashing  it  in  a  wreck  of  fragments  and  ashes  upon  the 
table.  Even  the  sedate  Germans  laughed,  but  the  discussion 
was  resumed,  and  it  was  weary  hours  before  the  two  visitors 
emerged  from  the  fog  of  tobacco-smoke,  a  headache  each 
being  apparently  all  they  had  gained. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE   PIEATE   OP   THE   PEN". 

"  IT  is  a  queer  world  !  It  is  the  queerest  of  all  conceiv 
able  worlds  ! " 

The  remark  seemed  to  break  of  itself  from  the  lips  of 
Henry  Harris.  Lord  Conyngham  and  himself  had  got  back 
to  Paris  the  day  before  from  their  trip  into  Germany.  George 
Harris  was  absent  on  business,  but  his  wife  and  Mary  were 
seated  in  the  parlor  at  their  hotel,  and  the  nobleman  had 
just  finished  his  account  of  their  experiences  among  the 
clouds  of  Teutonic  speculation  and  tobacco-smoke  in  the 
Bier  Halle  of  the  socialistic  club.  "  So  far,  all  I  have 
learned,"  Lord  Conyngham  added,  "  whether  from  Old  Sta 
tistics  in  London,  from  Madame  Mosseline  here  in  Paris, 
from  Herr  Zoodleplauntch  in  Germany,  may  be  summed  up 
in  three  things  :  First,  the  foundations  of  society  are  not,  as 
yet,  settled  as  upon  a  rock.  Far  from  it.  Underneath  all 
Europe,  as  well  as  Asia,  is  only  quicksand.  The  second 
thing  I  am  equally  sure  of,  and  that  is,  that  none  of  the  rem 
edies  suggested  would  do  more  than  substitute  for  what  now 
exists  the  most  abysmal  chaos,  out  of  which,  could  it  be  tried, 
society  would  be  glad  to  struggle  again  for  salvation,  through 
fire  and  blood,  under  the  leadership,  perhaps,  of  the  worst 


THE  PIRATE  OF  THE  PEN.  211 

despot  that  ever  reigned.  Last,  the  people  everywhere  are 
desperately  discontented,  and  will  never  rest  until  we  attain 
to  something  better  than  we  now  possess." 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  fourth  conclusion,  my  lord,"  Mary 
Harris  suggested,  "  and  that  is,  that  the  sooner  all  Europe 
follows  France,  and  scrambles  out  of  the  quicksand  upon  the 
adamant  of  American  republicanism,  the  better  for  it." 

"  You  always  wave  the  stars  and  stripes,  my  dear,"  her 
mother  said  ;  "  but,  do  you  know,  I  have  my  fears  for  America, 
too.  We  survived  the  agonies  of  our  civil  war,  but  I  almost 
dread  the — yes,  the  terrible  prosperity  upon  which  our  re 
public  is  entering.  If  we  boast  ourselves  too  much,  some 
sudden,  unlooked-for  disaster  may  hurl  us  again  into  the 
dust.  But  what  makes  you  think  it  is  such  a  queer  world, 
Henry  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  Herr  Zoodleplauntch,"  her  son 
replied.  He  had  been  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  room  ;  now 
he  stopped  and  said  :  "  Lord  Conyngham  has  told  you  about 
the  people  we  met  at  Madame  Mosseline's  house.  Let  me 
carry  on  the  story  by  telling  you  of  things  which  I  have 
found  out  since  we  were  there.  It  has  taken  time,  and 
money,  and  expert  detectives,  but  I  think  I  have  reached 
the  truth  at  last — almost,  at  least.  First,  to  be  systematic, 
like  your  lordship,  there  is  M.  Portou,  the  anatomist." 
Thereupon  the  speaker  described  at  length  the  appearance 
of  the  portly,  sleepy -faced  man,  the  disguises  he  wore,  the 
furnishing  of  his  menagerie-like  shop.  "  Now,"  Henry  con 
tinued,  "  that  man  may  or  may  not  be  really  and  truly  an  artic- 
ulator  of  bones,  a  stuffer  of  birds,  taxidermist,  whatever  he 
calls  himself  ;  in  any  case,  his  feathers  and  furs  and  skins 
are  but  the  costume  of  the  hour.  As  I  supposed,  he  is  a  Jes 
uit.  Fat,  sluggish,  stupidly  socialistic  as  he  seemed,  he  goes 
everywhere  in  the  interest  of  his  order,  merely  to  keep  him 
and  them  informed.  To  be  frank,  I  can  not  but  honor  the 
fervency  of  his  faith,  the  utter  devotedness  of  the  man,  even 
while  I  abhor  his  duplicity.  Dull  as  he  looks,  he  knows 
that  he  is  liable  to  be  stabbed  as  a  spy  by  those  who  hate 


212  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

a  Jesuit  more  than  they  do  an  agent  of  the  police.  But 
there  is  one  thing  which  I  have  not  found  out  yet.  It  is 
not  to  hear  the  insane  and  profligate  notions  of  the  Com 
mune  that  he  haunts  the  house  of  Madame  Mosseline.  My 
lord,"  and  the  speaker  addressed  himself  to  his  friend,  "  as 
sure  as  you  live,  there  is  some  reason  beyond  that ;  some 
sufficient  reason  in  connection  with  that  woman  ;  some  reason 
why  he,  a  priest — a  pure  man,  I  have  no  doubt — goes  to 
her  house.  What  it  is  I  am  resolved  to  know  if  I  can.  I 
have  reasons." 

"  We  know,  at  least,  who  that  rascal  Deschards  is,"  the 
other  replied.  "  Do  you  know,  he  is  an  entirely  new  charac 
ter  to  me.  I  study  him  as  I  would  a  newly  patented  re 
volver,  a  recently  discovered  reptile.  We  have  two  or  three 
inferior  specimens  of  the  species  in  London,  but  I  never  ac 
tually  saw  one  before."  Whereupon  the  speaker  gave  the 
ladies  a  description  of  the  literary  bandit,  of  his  appearance, 
his  ways  of  life.  Mrs.  Harris  and  her  daughter  were  greatly 
interested. 

"I  think,"  the  latter  said,  "that  he,  or  men  like  him, 
must  write  the  begging  letters  my  father  receives.  There 
are  so  many  of  them,  and  some  of  them  are  written  with 
wonderful  skill." 

"  Yes,"  her  brother  said,  "  it  is  only  a  scribe  like  Des 
chards  who  can  write  in  turns  like  an  old  soldier,  a  ship 
wrecked  sailor,  a  bankrupt  wine-merchant,  a  starving  schol 
ar,  a  high-spirited  youth  on  the  edge  of  suicide,  an  aged 
philanthropist  who  has  beggared  himself  by  giving,  a  de 
cayed  clergyman.  I  have  had  to  read  the  letters.  But  I 
think  it  is  when  the  writer  lays  aside  his  sex  and  becomes  a 
perishing  female,  through  all  varieties  of  maid  and  matron, 
daughter,  widow,  sister,  struggling  to  support  a  consumptive 
brother,  or  something  of  the  kind,  that  the  writer  is  most  of 
a  genius.  At  times  he  becomes  a  mere  boy  of  six,  a  little 
girl  of  eight,  in  his  attempts  to  get  a  remittance.  Of  course, 
the  man  we  speak  of  is  superior  to  the  need  of  writing  such 
letters.  Yet,  in  manifold  ways,  I  dare  say  Achilles  Des- 


THE  PIRATE  OF  THE  PEN.  213 

chards  keeps  his  versatile  pen  going.  He  is  never  at  a  loss, 
and  yet,  to  do  him  justice,  all  lesser  efforts  are  subordinate 
to  his  chief  occupation — that  of  political  writer." 

"  He  wrote  for  a  socialist  sheet,"  Lord  Conyngham  said, 
"and  I  obtained — you  know  I  want  to  learn  everything — 
some  copies  and  read  his  articles  with  great  interest.  It  was 
excellent  practice  in  learning  French  in  its  purity  ;  yes,  and 
in  its  power,  also.  They  were  surprisingly  good,  those  lead 
ers.  For  analysis  of  the  wrongs  of  the  workmen  and  the 
causes  and  remedies  thereof,  for  argument,  pathos,  invec 
tive,  wit  even,  they  would  not  have  disgraced  Pascal ;  they 
reminded  me  of  the  ' Lettres  Provinciates*  at  every  step. 
He  is  a  talented  rascal." 

"  And  I  read  a  number  of  his  articles  in  a  clerical  journal 
given  me  by  our  other  friend,  the  Jesuit, "  Henry  Harris 
remarked.  "  Except  that  they  were  more  aggressive,  the 
'  Pens'ees  '  of  Pascal  were  not  so  much  superior  to  them.  It 
was  pathetic  as  well  as  powerful,  the  way  in  which  the 
writer  spoke  of  the  evils  of  Protestantism  and  their  inevit 
able  outcome  in  socialistic  atheism  ;  of  the  stability,  glory, 
conservative  power,  future  triumph,  of  ultramontanism. 
You  would  have  thought  it  was  a  devout  ascetic  who  wrote, 
a  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  a  Borromeo.  And  yet — "  The 
speaker  made  a  despairing  gesture  with  both  hands,  and 
began  again  to  pace  the  floor. 

"And  yet  your  pirate  of  the  pen  wrote  them,"  his  sister 
added  for  him. 

"Yes,  but,"  her  brother  stopped  to  say,  "he  wrote  the 
radicalism  which  Lord  Conyngham  justly  wondered  over, 
at  the  very  time  he  was  engaged  in  his  clerical  labors.  In 
the  morning,  let  us  say,  he  gives  his  really  wonderful  power 
to  tearing  socialism  to  shreds  and  glorifying  the  Church. 
Until  late  at  night  of  the  same  day  he  is  engaged  with  Pro 
tean  power  in  depicting,  with  equal  vigor  and  unutterable 
loathing,  the  superstition  and  villainy  of  pope  and  priest.  We 
have  all  witnessed  the  rapid  transformations  of  Harlequin  ; 
but  the  intellectual  adroitness  of  Deschards  surpasses  that. 


214  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

You  can  run  a  locomotive  due  north,  can  reverse  its  wheels 
and  back  it  almost  as  fast  due  south  ;  but  here  is  a  man  who 
can  run  himself,  both  heart  and  mind,  north  and  south  at 
the  same  moment.  Really,"  the  speaker  added,  "  we  Ameri 
cans  are  '  smart ' ;  but  I  had  no  idea  of  an  American  as  sharp 
and  thrifty  as  that.  As  a  Yankee,  I  am  almost  proud  of 
Achilles  Deschards." 

"  Proud  of  him  !  "  The  exclamation  broke  at  the  same 
moment  from  his  sister  and  their  visitor.  "As  an  American, 
proud  of  him!" 

"  Yes  ;  proud  of  him,  because,"  Henry  Harris  said,  with 
an  enjoyment  of  their  surprise,  "this  distinctively  French 
individual  has  not  a  drop  of  French  blood  in  his  veins.  He 
is  as  much  of  an  American  as  I  am." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Henry  ?  We  shall  think  that  you 
are  masquerading  next,"  his  mother  said. 

"  No,  madam,"  her  son  replied  with  sudden  energy ; 
"  the  whole  world  seems  to  me,  at  times,  to  be  such  a  uni 
versal  Mabille,  such  a  vast  masked  ball ;  men  and  women 
seem  to  me,  sometimes,  to  whirl  around  in  such  a — yes,  uni 
versal  waltz  of  dominos  and  fancy  dresses,  that  I  have  to 
hold  fast  to  the  truth  myself  if  I  am  to  remain  sane.  Every 
day  I  try  harder,  on  that  account,  to  be  rigidly,  vigorously, 
painfully  honest,  accurate,  true  in  word  and  deed,  in  thought 
and  feeling.  Would  you  like  to  hear  a  true  story  ?  " 

"  Not  until  after  lunch,"  Mrs.  Harris  interposed.  "  Come, 
my  lord  ;  come,  Mary."  And  they  went  together  into  the 
dining-room. 

"  Now,  listen,"  Henry  continued,  as  they  lingered  about 
the  table.  "  I  rarely  .touch  wine  ;  so  you  will  be  confirmed 
as  to  my  veracity  while  I  talk.  Once  upon  a  time,  years 
ago,  a  landscape  painter,"  he  smiled  at  the  slight  start  given 
by  his  sister  at  the  words — "  I  do  not  mean  Tennyson's  Lord 
of  Burleigh — was  sketching  among  the  roughest  regions 
of  Virginia."  Beginning  thus,  he  told  the  story  which  Ze- 
rah  Atchison  had  told  him.  It  required  delicate  handling, 
but  he  put  into  a  few  words  the  history  of  Delira,  the  wild 


THE  PIRATE  OF  THE  PEN.  215 

daughter  of  the  woods,  of  her  love  for  the  painter,  of  the 
elopement  with  the  French  surveyor,  of  the  birth  of  the 
child  of  the  artist,  of  the  flight  of  mother  and  babe  with 
the  surveyor  to  Paris,  of  the  desire  of  the  artist  and  his 
daughter  Isidore  to  find  the  relative  of  whom  they  had  so 
suddenly  learned. 

"  It  may  be  natural,"  Henry  Harris  continued,  "  for  them 
to  desire  to  find  this  son  and  brother — half  brother,  I  should 
say.  They  have  no  other  of  their  blood  living.  But  it  has 
perplexed  me  why  I  should  have  become  so  deeply  inter 
ested.  It  is  because  it  was  a  something  hard  to  do,  I  dare 
say  ;  because  they  had  not  a  soul  to  do  it  for  them.  Any 
how,  I  promised  to  help  them  in  their  hopeless  search  for  the 
missing  man." 

"Perhaps,"  Lord  Conyngham  remarked,  "Miss  Isidore 
was  not  without  her  influence  upon  you.  She  is  a  charming 
lady  ;  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  is  an  artist.  There  is  a 
clinging,  plastic  power  in  her  eyes  as  in  her  gifted  hands  ; 
and  the  perfection  of  her  art  lies  in  her  modesty,  too." 

"  I  thank  you  for  saying  so."  Mrs.  Harris  and  her  daugh 
ter  made  the  same  remark  in  a  breath,  and  when  Mai-y 
laughed  at  it  and  apologized  for  interrupting  her  mother, 
the  matron  continued,  with  feeling,  "  Yes  ;  we  thank  you. 
Both  Mary  and  myself  have  been  greatly  pleased  with  Isi 
dore.  Nor  is  it  alone  because  of  her  genius  and  devotion  to 
her  father.  There  is  a  purity  of  soul  which  suffuses  her. 
Did  you  ever  see  an  instance,  my  lord,  in  which  the  very 
soul  seemed  to — there  is  no  word  but  that — appeared  to  suf 
fuse  a  person  ?  It  is  like  the  blush  in  the  cheeks  of  a  girl  ; 
like  the  color,  rather,  in  the  face  of  a  child.  It  is  what,  in 
music,  is  styled  expression,  effusion.  The  great  masters  can 
pour  their  very  soul  through  the  chords,  because — I  de 
spair,"  Mrs.  Harris  laughed,  "  to  express  it  ;  their  inmost 
nature  is  so  deep,  strong,  ardent,  that  it  trembles  to  overflow 
upon  lip,  eye,  hand." 

"  And  the  piano,  the  canvas,  the  clay,  whatever  it  is  they 
are  at  work  upon,"  her  son  said  for  her,  "can  not  but  be 
10 


216  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

filled  with  and  reveal  the  life  which  is  received.  That  is 
genius  ! "  His  eyes  brightened  ;  he  had  forgotten  his  story. 
"Ah,  yes,"  he  proceeded,  when  reminded  of  ify  "there  is 
little  more  to  say.  Mr.  Atchison  painted  the  mother  of  the 
man  from  memory.  When  I  saw  the  picture,  and  then  Des- 
chards,  it  came  to  my  mind  that  it  was  barely  possible  he 
might  be  the  one  they  were  in  search  of.  I  employed  detec 
tives  to  investigate  his  antecedents.  It  is  too  long  a  tale  to 
tell,  but,  as  the  result,  I  feel  almost  certain  that  he  is  the 
man." 

"  And  you  have  told  Mr.  Atchison  ?  "  Mary  Harris  ex 
claimed.  "  Why,  Henry,  it  is  like  a  romance." 

"  No  ;  I  have  not  told  him,"  her  brother  answered. 
"There  are  points  I  intend  to  clear  up  before  I  do  that. 
And  to  find  that  the  person  they  seek  is  such  a  scoundrel  ! 
No  ;  I  am  not  ready  to  tell  them  of  it  yet,  if  I  ever  do.  We 
must  wait." 

But  company  was  announced  at  this  instant,  and  the  cir 
cle  was,  for  the  time,  broken  up. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

IMPERIAL   LOVE. 

AT  every  important  step  of  his  life  hitherto,  Henry  Har 
ris  had  consulted  his  mother  if  not  his  father,  but  in  refer 
ence  to  Lady  Blanche  he  could  now  ask  no  advice  of  either. 
Like  his  father,  he  was  slow  in  coming  to  his  conclusions, 
but,  once  reached,  they  were  as  much  a  portion  of  his  nature 
as  its  grain  and  fiber  is  of  the  oak.  And  this  was  because, 
like  his  mother,  he  could  neither  speak  nor  act  until  he 
was  thoroughly  satisfied  in  his  own  mind.  Thus  satisfied, 
his  conclusions  were  to  him,  and  to  others  also,  like  sunshine 
or  storm,  among  the  irreversible  operations  of  nature.  In 
other  words,  his  decisions  in  any  given  case  were  but  a  sure 


IMPERIAL  LOVE.  217 

anticipation  of  the  sound  judgment  in  the  matter  of  every 
other  person.  As  to  Lady  Blanche,  his  heart  had  more  to 
say  than  in  any  subject  which  had  ever  come  before  him  for 
final  award,  and  he,  like  a  just  judge,  had  allowed  this  client 
to  say  all  it  had  to  say  and  to  the  last  syllable,  but  he  had 
also  listened  to  all  that  his  cooler  sense  had  to  suggest.  This 
was  an  unusual  course  in  one  so  young  and  so  ardent,  but 
this  lover  was  of  the  stuff  also  of  which  kings  are  made. 

He  felt  himself  ready  at  last  to  call  upon  her  for  her  de 
cision,  and  he  had  been  careful  to  select  a  time  when  he 
would  find  her  at  home  and  alone.  When  the  footman  an 
nounced  to  her  who  it  was  awaited  her  in  the  private  parlor, 
she  was  outwardly  calm,  but  inwardly  it  was  as  when  she  had 
first  known  that  her  mother  was  dead.  For  a  long  time  she 
had  tried  to  prepare  for  the  visit,  yet  it  was  as  if  two  wo 
men  were  striving  in  her.  But  the  strife  grew  only  the 
more  desperate  as  she  lingered  at  her  toilet,  and  she  suddenly 
turned  and  went  to  her  visitor.  Events  must  decide.  Now, 
if  it  is  by  an'  instinct  that  lovers  hide  themselves  from  all 
others  on  such  occasions  as  this,  it  is  by  an  instinct  no  less 
sacred  that  even  the  nearest  friends  shrink  from  intruding 
upon  them.  Yet  a  few  words  may  be  said  as  to  their  inter 
view.  The  American  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room 
when  she  came  in.  After  the  usual  salutations  she  sat  down, 
but  he  excused  himself  from  doing  so  and  remained  stand 
ing. 

Surely  it  is  at  such  a  moment  that  a  man  and  a  woman 
appear  at  their  best.  Henry  was  not  an  Adonis ;  Lady 
Blanche  met  every  day  hosts  of  gentlemen  who  were  hand 
somer,  more  elaborate  in  all  the  details  of  manner  and  toilet, 
than  he  ;  and  it  was  the  almost  rugged  independence  of  his 
sturdy  form,  his  open  and  manly  face,  his  eyes,  sincere  and 
steady,  which  drew  her  to  him.  There  was  in  this  gentle 
man  beyond  any  she  had  known  the  aspect  of  self-reliance, 
of  strength  to  endure  as  well  as  to  do.  She  was  strong,  and 
she  loved  him  because  he  was  yet  stronger.  And  he  was 
saying  to  himself  as  he  stood  before  her  :  "  Surely  it  was  in 


218  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

such  a  mold  as  this  that  the  Roman  patricians  of  old  were 
cast.  That  noble  yet  lovely  head  ;  those  eyes,  as  imperial 
in  the  humility  of  their  drooping  lids  as  when  lifted  to  mine  ; 
the  gracious  curve  of  that  lip,  of  that  fair  neck ;  that  hand 
which  lies  relaxed  upon  her  lap,  conscious  and  yet  uncon 
scious  of  the  scepter  it  holds  ;  yes,  this  woman  is  by  birth  a 
queen.  As  such  she  will  be  sufficient  for  this  emergency." 

"  Lady  Blanche,"  he  began,  "  you  know  already  what  I 
came  to  say,  but  please  listen  to  me."  No  man  could  have 
begun  more  coolly.  Once  begun,  his  ideas  became  clearer 
as  he  went  on.  Somehow  her  presence  steadied  him,  made 
him  even  more  perfectly  certain  of  the  one  thing  to  do.  He 
told  her  of  his  exceeding  estimation  of  her,  of  his  ardent 
affection.  He  had  feared  that  he  would  lose  the  mastery  of 
himself,  new  as  it  would  be  to  him  to  do  so.  He  became 
more  assured  as  he  proceeded,  in  low  and  rapid  tones,  to  say 
all  that  he  had  to  say.  She  had  glanced  up  at  first  with  a 
certain  startled  look,  then  her  eyes,  her  head,  fell  again  as  he 
went  on.  It  was  very  sweet  to  her  to  hear  what  he  was  say 
ing  ;  but  all  the  time  it  was  as  if  she  had  also  another  self 
which  stood  by  and  listened  coldly,  angrily  even,  as  a  rival 
might  have  done.  For  she  was  at  the  moment  two  women 
indeed,  each  how  unlike  the  other  !  One  of  these  was  as  sim 
ple-hearted  as  any  dairy-maid  among  the  daisies  in  England. 
Rosy  of  cheek  and  of  lip,  pure,  and  good,  and  true,  she  was 
listening  to  her  lover  with  gladness  of  heart,  as  any  Peggy 
would  listen,  milk-pail  in  hand,  to  her  Robin  beside  a  haw 
thorn  hedge,  their  feet  wet  with  the  dewy  grass  of  morning. 
Robin  loved  her  with  all  his  heart,  and  she  loved  Robin  as 
sincerely.  That  was  all,  and  why  should  they  not  marry? 
It  was  as  natural  to  love  and  to  marry  as  it  was  for  the  larks 
to  sing  or  for  their  lips  to  meet.  Of  course  she  would  say 
yes  !  There  was  nothing  in  all  the  wide  world  which  could 
or  should  prevent  that !  Robin  is  mine  and  I  am  his,  and — 

The  Englishwoman  lifted  her  eyes  to  her  lover  as  she 
had  done  when  they  had  met  once  before.  He  stooped,  he 
took  her  yielding  hands  in  his,  he  was  about  to  kiss  her.  She 


IMPERIAL  LOVE.  219 

drew  back,  she  arose,  she  was  no  longer  a  dairy-maid  ;  she  was 
another  woman  entirely. 

"  You  forget  yourself,  sir,"  she  said,  and  the  lover  found 
himself  confronted  instead  by  the  proud  daughter  of  Earl 
Dorrington.  In  the  same  instant  he  also  had  grown  colder, 
calmer.  He  looked  her  steadily  in  the  eyes. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  you 
were  anything  but  an  Englishwoman  ;  that  you  were  very 
beautiful,  very  charming,  and  only  a  woman,  nothing  more." 
Even  as  he  said  it  his  heart  softened  ;  she  wras  nothing  more 
again  ;  was  trembling,  was  weeping. 

"  You  know — "  she  began. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  know  everything,  and  I  know  it 
perfectly.  I  know  that  not  your  father  only,  but  that  every 
friend  you  have,  would  be  shocked  beyond  expression  if  you 
should  marry  me.  It  would  not  matter  if  I  were  to  become 
the  wealthiest  man  alive.  If  I  were  to  hold  the  highest  of 
fice  in  my  own  land,  it  would  be  the  same.  Even  if  I  could, 
as  inventor,  author,  orator,  reach  the  loftiest  station,  it  would 
be  the  same.  It  is  strange,  Lady  Blanche,"  he  said,  sadly  ; 
"  you  are,  like  the  beautiful  maiden  in  the  German  story, 
the  wonder  of  the  world  for  your  loveliness  ;  you  are,  like 
her,  locked  up  in  the  heart  of  a  transparent  globe  of  crystal ; 
you  live,  you  breathe,  you — yes,  you  love,  yet  you  are  frozen 
in  within  a  sphere  of  ice,  which  is  also  adamant." 

"  Is  it  my  fault  ?  "  But  the  dairy-maid  held  herself  aloof 
from  her  lover  as  she  asked  it ;  her  lashes  were  wet  with 
tears  ;  a  great  perplexity  fell  upon  him  ;  he  dared  not  come 
nearer  to  her.  Dairy-maid  as  she  was,  she  was  not  standing 
beside  him  among  the  newly  mown  hay  ;  her  foot  was  instead 
upon  the  steps  of  a  throne  ;  he  had  but  to  attempt  to  touch 
her,  and  at  a  breath  she  would  be  a  queen  instead,  seated  high 
up  and  out  of  his  reach.  He  loved  her,  but  there  was  some 
thing  which  struck  at  his  very  manhood  in  all  this.  He  was 
a  machinist  as  well  as  a  lover,  and  it  was  as  if  he  were  en 
gaged  upon  a  task  which  he  knew  he  could  by  no  possibility 
accomplish. 


220  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  No,  the  fault  is  not  in  you,"  he  said,  very  sadly.  "  Why 
did  I  come  here  ?  Let  us  be  frank  with  each  other,  Lady 
Blanche.  Even  if  you  were  willing,  could  I  consent  to  sac 
rifice  you  to  my  love  ?  I  am  not  a  fool,  for  I  know  what 
would  follow.  You  might  honor  me  with  your  love,  you  might 
consent  to  marry  me,  to  elope  with  me  if  necessary  ;  but  do 
I  not  know  what  would  follow  ?  It  is  not  that  you  could  not 
stand  up  under  the  storm  of  reproach  which  would  fall  upon 
you  ;  worse  :  how  could  you  endure  to  lose  all  rank,  and  be 
simply  my  wife  and  nothing  more  ?  The  utter  change  in 
your  entire  life  ;  how  could  you  survive  it  ?  Would  you  not 
come  to  hate  me,  instead  ?  Though  I  loved  you  a  thousand 
times  more,  because  I  love  and  admire  you  so,  I  could  not 
take  advantage  of  your  weakness,  could  not  plunge  you  into 
certain  wretchedness." 

The  proud  beauty  had  become  and  remained  merely  a 
woman  again  ;  she  was  regarding  him  with  reproach ;  her 
eyes  swam  in  tears. 

"  No,  Lady  Blanche " — he  grew  firmer  as  he  went  on — 
"  if  I  am  to  remain  a  gentleman,  I  must  be  steady  to  what  I 
know  of  myself,  as  well  as  of  you.  Prince  Albert  could 
marry  your  Queen,  but  I  could  never  marry  a  woman  who 
was  to  be  in  anything  my  superior.  You  would  always  be 
my  superior,"  he  hastened  to  explain,  "  in  everything  in 
which  a  woman  is  superior  to  a  man,  a  wife  to  a  husband  ; 
but  beyond  that —  No  !  I  admire  you,  I  love  you  more  than 
any  woman  alive,  but  I  can  not,  I  will  not — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  At  the  instant  the  lady 
saw  in  imagination,  through  her  tears,  another  standing  beside 
him.  As  the  lover  lifted  his  head,  as  his  cheek  flushed,  his 
eyes  grew  bright,  the  Duke  of  Plymouth  stood  before  her  in 
comparison  with  him.  Pie  was  not  a  worse  man,  the  Duke, 
than  the  habitues  of  London  clubs  and  the  theatres  of  Vienna 
and  Paris  generally  are,  but  then  he  was  no  better.  The  lady 
even  at  such  a  moment,  and  because  it  was  such  a  moment, 
could  not  help  seeing  the  undersized,  weak-eyed  Duke,  his 
complexion  as  colorless  as  was  his  hair,  his  eyes,  his  words, 


IMPERIAL  LOVE.  221 

his  ways.  Just  then  he  appeared  to  her  to  be  the  meanest 
creature  crawling.  If  his  estates  measured  whole  counties, 
why  could  he  not  somehow  draw  a  larger  manhood  into  him 
self  from  them  ?  His  oaks,  his  deer,  his  tenants,  throve  upon 
them  ;  he  himself  was  only  shriveled  thereby  in  contrast. 
Why  could  he  not  bring  something  of  his  vast  income  into 
his  veins,  into  his  bones  ?  His  blood  had  come  down  to  him 
through  the  well-defined  channels  of  eight  centuries  ;  why, 
alas  !  did  it  not  have  a  more  definite  hue,  did  it  not  flow  in 
stronger  currents  ? 

In  a  flash  the  Englishwoman  saw  and  ceased  to  see  the 
Duke  ;  only  the  American  stood  before  her.  The  Duke  was 
but  a  vaporous  individual  at  best ;  he  had  vanished  before 
her  clear  eyes  ;  only  the  American  engineer  stood  there  in 
his  simple  manhood.  The  tremendous  revolution  which  is 
heaving  beneath  the  deepest  foundations  of  her  country 
stirred  in  the  depths  of  her  own  heart,  stirred  blindly, 
vaguely.  She  was  better  read,  had  more  capacity,  more 
vigor  of  heart  and  intellect,  than  the  majority  of  her 
sex  and  rank.  In  virtue  of  that  she  was  beginning  to  see 
things  as  all,  even  of  her  own  class,  will  see  them  in  the 
broader  day  of  a  century  hence.  But  at  that  instant  the  in 
evitable  future  stood  before  her  in  the  person  of  the  one  man 
she  had  ever  loved.  Her  heart  had  lent  its  flame  to  the 
light  of  her  intellect.  As  she  looked,  the  queen  in  her  came 
deliberately  down  the  steps  of  her  throne,  and  lost  herself 
in  the  simple  woman.  She  was  no  more  than  a  milkmaid. 

"  Mr.  Harris,"  she  said,  "  I  have  thought  of  all  you  have 
said  ;  .have  thought  of  nothing  else  ;  have  thought  of  it  all 
long  and  deeply."  She  interlaced  her  fingers  before  her  ;  as 
she  stood  with  relaxed  arms,  her  head  drooped,  her  bosom 
heaved  before  a  power  too  great  for  her,  a  soft  color  suffused 
her  cheek,  a  gentle  light  came  into  her  eyes.  "  Mr.  Harris," 
she  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  as  sweet  as  that  of  the  hum 
blest  girl,  "  are  you  sure  ?  Do  you  really  love  me  ?  " 

The  lover  made  a  step  toward  her.  In  the  same  instant 
her  face  changed  ;  she  lifted  a  warning  hand  ;  Earl  Dorring- 


222  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ton  entered  the  room.  The  lover  knew  that  the  Earl  could 
not  but  be  aware  of  what  was  passing  between  him  and  Lady 
Blanche.  He  was  glad  of  it,  was  about  to  ask  an  interview 
with  him,  when,  withdrawn  to  one  side,  the  Englishwoman 
lifted  her  hand  again  and  shook  her  head  in  such  passionate 
entreaty  that  he  forbore  to  do  so,  and  soon  afterward  took 
his  leave.  On  reaching  his  hotel  the  lover  sat  down  and 
wrote  to  the  lady,  entreating  her  to  suffer  him  to  speak  to 
her  father  forthwith.  In  his  letter  he  endeavored  to  put  his 
entire  heart,  but  it  was  several  days  before  he  received  a  re 
ply.  When  it  did  arrive  he  tore  it  open  with  eagerness,  but 
was  not  surprised  to  find,  without  date,  address,  or  signature, 
only  a  few  words  : 

"  Had  you  spoken,  it  would  have  killed  him  ;  he  is  so  old. 
I  can  not  permit  you  to  do  so.  Do  not  call  upon  or  seek  in 
any  way  to  speak  to  me.  It  can  not  be.  No  one  can  know 
that  better  than  yourself." 

"Whenever  Henry  Harris  saw  Lady  Blanche  after  this,  at 
the  Exposition,  upon  the  streets,  in  company,  she  so  evident 
ly  avoided  an  interview  that  his  pride  was  aroused.  For  the 
present,  at  least,  he  would  make  no  further  attempt. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

IX   PURSUIT. 

IT  had  been  arranged  between  Isidore  Atchison,  Mary 
Harris,  and  her  brother,  that  all  three  were  to  go  upon  a  ride 
into  the  suburbs  of  Paris  quite  early  one  Tuesday  morning. 
The  last-named  had  special  reasons  for  this,  which  he  had 
told  his  sister,  and,  in  consequence  of  their  plan,  the  gentle 
man  called  at  the  studio  of  the  artists  immediately  after 
breakfast.  The  father  was  not  yet  up,  nor  would  he  arise 
until  after  the  return  of  his  daughter,  but  her  he  found 


IN  PURSUIT.  223 

equipped  for  the  drive  and  eager  to  go.  She  had  never 
seemed  so  fresh  and  charming.  It  may  have  been  the  per 
fect  taste  displayed  in  her  dress,  as  well  as  an  exuberance  of 
health  and  high  spirits  following  upon  comparative  relief 
after  long  and  severe  poverty.  The  companionship  of  such 
friends  as  Mary  Harris  and  her  mother,  after  long  isolation 
from  almost  every  one,  had  much  to  do  with  it,  as  also  the 
knowledge  that  the  talents  of  her  father  and  herself  were 
appreciated — all  this  went  to  account  for  the  new  gladness 
and  beauty  of  the  girl ;  but  there  was  more  still. 

"  Just  now  I  had  such  a  flattering  letter,"  she  said  with 
glee,  while  the  gentleman  stood,  hat  in  hand,  waiting  for  her 
to  draw  on  her  gloves,  and,  in  the  fullness  of  her  heart,  she 
waved  the  letter  over  her  head.  "  Out  of  the  generosity  of 
his  heart,  the  writer,"  she  laughed,  "  insists  upon  it  that  I 
shall  tell  no  one,  not  even  my  father ;  but  how  can  I 
help  it  ?  " 

It  may  have  been,  also,  because  she  had  grown  up  almost 
out  of  the  world  and  in  the  realms  of  nature  and  pure  art, 
that  Isidore  Atchison  seemed  so  unconventional.  She  was  so 
excited  she  could  not  be  calm.  The  dimples  came  and  went 
in  her  childlike  face  ;  her  hazel  eyes  were  full  of  joyous 
expectations  ;  her  body  swayed  to  the  music  of  her  joy  as 
that  of  a  little  girl  would  have  done  over  a  Christmas  gift,  or 
when  full  of  eagerness  to  start  upon  a  picnic. 

"  How  glad  I  am,"  she  said  from  her  heart,  "  that  people 
think  I  am  a  genius  !  I  am  not,  you  know  ;  but  if  they  think 
so,  you  see,  and  if  they  pay  me  so,  then  my  dear  old  father 
need  not  carve  any  more.  Nobody  will  buy  his  pictures  ; 
but  then  he  has  long  ago  given  up  any  hope  of  that.  Ever 
since  he  can  remember,  he  has  dreamed  of  being  a  great 
painter — has  been  toiling  hard  to  be  one.  He  has  hoped  he 
would  certainly  succeed  this  time,  oh  !  a  hundred  times  over 
and  over  again.  But,  do  all  he  can,  the  picture  will  not  be 
what  he  wants  it  to  be — is  determined  it  shall  be.  He  has  a 
perfect  ideal  in  his  mind,  you  know,  Mr.  Harris.  I  do  not 
believe  that  Titian  or  Rubens  had  as  perfect  a  conception  of 


224:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

what  they  intended  to  produce  as  he.  He  is  a  great  painter," 
she  said,  stoutly  ;  "  only — only —  " 

"  The  obstinate  brush  refuses  to  yield  as  it  should  to  his 
hand,"  the  other  suggested. 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  genius  lies  in  the  conception,"  she  insisted, 
half  in  earnest.  "  That  is  why  my  dear  old  father — the  best 
father  alive — has,  through  all  these  long  years,  grown  so 
patient.  It  is  because  of  years  of  hope,  defeat,  but  undying 
hope  still." 

"  I  understand,"  Henry  Harris  said,  entering  heartily  into 
the  reasoning  as  he  did  into  the  mood  of  the  other.  "  His 
ideal  hovers  in  the  air  before  him  so  vividly  that  he  feels  as  if 
next  time  he  will  certainly  grasp  and  place  it  upon  the  canvas." 

"  Yes  ;  and  now  he  can  give  himself  up  entirely  to  try 
ing,"  the  girl  said.  "  The  gentleman  who  writes  to  me  says 
that  he  has  desired  long  and  intensely  to  possess  a  Venus 
such  as  he  is  sure  I  can  supply  him.  I  must  not  tell  a  soul,  but 
he  has  already  placed,  he  says,  oh  !  such  a  large  sum  to  my 
account  in  the  Bank  of  England,  for  the  purpose.  I  ought 
not  to  have  told  you,"  she  added,  "  but  you  are  the  first  per 
son  I  have  seen,  for  father  is  not  awake  yet,  and  I  am  so 
glad." 

"Miss  Isidore,"  the  other  remarked,  with  a  sudden  grav 
ity,  "  please  let  me  read  the  letter." 

The  delighted  girl,  with  a  sudden  trouble  in  her  face, 
handed  the  paper,  which  was  still  in  her  hand,  to  him.  Ex 
cusing  himself,  he  walked  to  the  window,  read  the  letter  with 
his  face  from  her.  Then  he  turned  to  her,  his  countenance 
grown  so  grave  that  the  gladness  died  out  of  her  own,  too, 
she  knew  not  why,  as  he  said  : 

"  Miss  Isidore,  may  I  beg  that  you  will  say  nothing  of 
this  letter  to  your  father  even — to  any  one — at  present  ?  I 
entreat  you  to  do  as  I  say."  It  was  said  with  an  authority 
which  was  not  to  be  resisted,  not  even  disputed. 

And  then  he  turned  away  again  so  as  not  to  see  the 
quenching  of  the  light  in  her  eyes,  the  astonishment,  then 
the  crimson  shame,  which  flooded  her  face. 


/ZV  PURSUIT.  225 

"  My  sister  waits  for  us  at  the  door,"  he  said,  in  a  lighter 
tone,  the  next  moment.  "  Take  ycur  own  time  to  come 
down.  We  will  have  a  delightful  ride.  I  will  not  forget 
that  this  is  your  secret." 

He  had  slipped  the  letter  into  his  breast-pocket,  and  went 
out. 

"  Mary,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  as  he  stood  beside  the  car 
riage  in  which  she  sat  waiting,  "  Miss  Atchison  has  had  bad 
news  which  she  does  not  want  alluded  to.  I  know  you  will 
do  all  you  can  to  make  her  forget  it." 

But  it  was  some  time  before  the  poor  girl  came  down. 
It  was  plain  that  she  had  been  weeping  ;  her  gladness  was 
gone.  As  he  assisted  her  into  the  carriage,  and  then  took  a 
seat  beside  the  driver,  Henry  Harris  pressed  his  hand  upon 
the  letter  in  his  bosom,  and  said  things  under  his  breath,  and 
to  himself  exclusively,  which  would  have  astonished  the 
ladies  beyond  measure.  His  sister  received  their  companion 
with  such  a  loving  kiss  as  caused  the  tears  to  flow  silently 
down  the  cheeks  of  Isidore  as  they  rode  rapidly  away.  But 
Mary  did  not  seem  to  observe  them,  and  conversed  with  her 
in  a  gentle  and  consoling  way. 

"  My  brother  tells  me  that  you  are  not  quite  well  this 
morning,  dear,"  Mary  said,  at  last.  "  You  have  worked  too 
hard.  What  a  beautiful  day  it  is  !  The  ride  will  do  us  all 
good,"  and  she  began  to  point  out  this  object  and  that  as 
they  went.  The  sun  shone  brilliantly,  the  air  was  clear  and 
bracing.  Gradually  the  spirits  of  the  young  girl  rallied ; 
her  joyousness  was  sobered  for  the  time,  but  she  grew  more 
and  more  cheerful  as  the  hours  slipped  away.  It  was  due 
to  Mr.  Harris,  she  thought,  to  at  least  seem  to  forget. 

"  I  want  you  to  notice  the  people  as  well  as  the  places, 
you  ladies,"  he  said,  after  they  had  gone  some  miles,  turning 
to  look  down  upon  them.  "  Ruskin  tells  us  somewhere  that 
one  day,  in  traveling,  he  took  care  to  study  closely  the  faces 
of  about  a  thousand  people  he  met.  Except  in  the  case  of 
a  school-girl,  every  face,  he  says,  was  either  very  bad  or  very 
sad."  The  speaker  had  said  a  word  to  the  coachman  just 


226  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

before,  and  the  carriage  was  going  along  quite  slowly  as  he 
spoke.  "  Now,"  he  added,  in  a  light  tone,  "  I  wish  you  both 
to  observe  every  face  that  you  see  upon  the  right-hand  side. 
These  men  and  women  have  to  go  to  that  corner  to  take  a 
vehicle  for  their  places  of  business  in  Paris.  Please,"  and 
he  consulted  his  watch  and  laid  his  hand  upon  that  of  the 
coachman  until  the  horses  had  come  down  to  a  walk,  "  please 
look  at  their  faces  very  closely.  I  want  to  know  what  you 
think  of  them." 

"  We  will,  Henry,"  his  sister  said ;  "  there  are  children  on 
their  way  to  school,  old  men,  young  men,  lean  women,  stout 
women,  people  in  uniform,  newsboys,  market-men — "  She 
saw  her  brother  lift  his  handkerchief  to  his  lips  as  she  spoke. 
It  was  a  concerted  signal.  "  O  Isidore  ! "  she  added,  "  look 
at  that  man  coming  along,  the  one  with  the  sallow  complex 
ion  and  the  fine  eyes.  What  do  you  think  of  his  face — the 
man  with  the  old  woman  ?  " 

"It  is  a  very  intellectual  face,"  the  artist  said,  "but  he 
must  have  been  very  ill ;  see  how  thin  and  haggard  he  is." 

"  Is  it  a  good  face  ?  Would  you  think  him  to  be  a  good 
man,  an  honorable  man  ?  "  her  companion  asked,  hurriedly. 

The  other  was  surprised  at  the  eagerness  of  the  question. 
She  looked  steadily  at  the  man  indicated,  who  recognized 
Henry  Harris  at  this  moment,  and  a  salutation  passed  be 
tween  them. 

"N" — n — no,  I  would  not  regard  him  as  a  good  man," 
Isidore  said,  slowly ;  "  he  would  make  an  excellent  model 
for  Mephistopheles.  He  is  a  French  Lucifer,"  she  added, 
with  energy.  "But  no,"  she  corrected  herself  on  the  in 
stant,  and  said,  with  childlike  eagerness,  "  he  can  not  be  so 
very  bad.  See  how  patiently  he  is  supporting  his  old  mother 
along." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  is  his  mother  ? "  Henry  Harris 
asked,  almost  as  eagerly,  but  in  a  low  tone.  He  was  taken 
by  surprise. 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Do  you  not  see  how  much  they  are 
alike  ?  And,"  the  warm-hearted  girl  exclaimed,  "  see  how 


IN  PURSUIT.  227 

she  leans  upon  his  arm,  how  she  looks  up  into  his  face,  how 
lovingly  he  adapts  his  steps  to  hers,  how  he  bends  down  to 
speak  gently  to  her  and  yet  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear.  Oh, 
I  am  so  glad  !  His  face  is  like  Belial,  but  that  may  be  his 
character,  must  be  his  character  to  others,  not  to  her.  He 
is  the  worst  man  in  the  world,  but  the  best  son." 

At  the  word  Henry  Harris  spoke  to  the  coachman,  the 
horses  sprang  forward,  and  the  conversation  took  another 
turn.  They  had  a  long  and  very  pleasant  ride.  The  gen 
tleman  had  left  his  seat  beside  the  driver  and  seated  himself 
in  the  carriage  when  they  turned,  at  last,  to  go  back,  and 
Isidore  suddenly  asked  him  in  a  pause  of  their  talk  :  "  Mr. 
Harris,  you  recognized  that  good  son  who  is  such  a  bad 
man  ;  what  is  his  name  ?  " 

"He  is  a  writer  for  the  press,"  the  gentleman  replied, 
"  and  his  name  is  Achilles  Deschards.  Did  you  notice  the 
woman  who  you  said  was  his  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  she  looks  like  an  old  Indian  woman.  What  sharp, 
black  eyes  she  had  !  And  he  is  exceedingly  like  her.  But," 
the  girl  added,  "he  is  evidently  a  remarkable  man.  Tell  us 
about  him,  Mr.  Harris." 

The  one  addressed  paused  a  moment,  exchanged  glances 
with  his  sister,  and  then  told  of  the  talent  and  singular  du 
plicity  of  the  celebrated  writer. 

"And  he  writes  as  brilliantly  for  one  party  as  for  an 
other,"  she  mused  when  he  had  finished.  "He  can  write 
hymns  for  the  religious  papers,  and  the  lowest  vaudevilles 
for  the  theatres  ;  can  compose  sermons  for  the  priests  in 
Lent,  and  songs  which  are  sung  at  the  cafes  chantants.  Is 
it  not  strange  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  he  prepares  feuilletons  for  the  comic  papers, 
obituaries  for  dead  children,  attacks  on  Germany,  anything, 
everything  for  pay.  He  is  a  universal  genius,"  the  gentle 
man  added,  "  an  admirable  yet  particularly  detestable  Crich- 
ton.  He  writes  anything  for  money." 

"  Yes,  that  is  very  wicked,  but,"  and  the  girl  lifted  her 
soft  and  pleading  eyes  to  his  face,  "  he  gives  the  money  to 


228  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

his  mother.  And  she  is  old  and  poor,  and  perhaps  knows 
nothing  about  it.  And  they  love  each  other  so  !  Not  that 
I  excuse  him,"  she  added,  hastily. 

This  last  was  something  wholly  new  to  Henry  Harris. 
He  was  not  aware  before  of  the  existence  of  the  woman  who, 
he  had  every  reason  to  believe,  had  loved  and  then  run  away 
from  Zerah  Atchison.  "  And  that  rascal  is,  in  all  probabil 
ity,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  at  least  a  half  brother  of  this  un 
suspecting  girl."  He  was  more  perplexed  what  to  do  than 
ever. 

But  his  mind  was  very  clear  in  regard  to  another  matter. 
Nothing  more  was  said,  and  soon  after  he  deposited  Isidore 
Atchison  at  her  own  door.  Very  early  next  morning  he 
went  to  the  hotel  at  which  Hassan  Pasha  lodged.  That  gen 
tleman  was  not  up,  but,  when  a  person  of  the  bearing  of  the 
American  pleaded  that  he  had  special  business  with  him,  he 
was  allowed  to  enter  the  magnificent  parlors  joining  the  room 
in  which  the  Pasha  slept,  to  wait  for  him  there.  As  soon  as 
he  had  gone  into  them  he  locked  the  doors  behind  him,  then 
opened  and  entered  the  bedroom.  The  Turk  was  still  in 
bed,  his  servants  absent  preparing  his  breakfast,  and,  awa 
kening  at  the  sound,  he  sat  up  with  astonishment  upon  his 
face. 

"Did  you  write  that?"  It  was  all  the  sturdy  visitor 
said  as  he  handed  to  the  half-awakened  man  the  paper  he 
had  taken  from  Isidore.  No  name  had  been  signed  to  it. 
The  girl  evidently  thought  it  had  come  from  some  wealthy 
patron  of  art,  American  or  English,  but  her  visitor  had  long 
known  the  character  of  the  ex-vizier,  had  recognized  his 
writing.  The  Oriental  was  surrounded  by  the  costliest  ob 
jects.  The  furniture,  the  pictures,  the  silken  drapery  of  his 
bed,  were  in  keeping  with  the  Sybarite  reputation  of  the  man 
himself,  who  now  gazed  with  the  eyes  of  a  leopard  at  his 
strange  visitor. 

"  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  "  he  almost  howled,  en 
deavoring  to  get  out  of  bed,  his  black  eyes  glancing  at  a  pair 
of  pearl-handled  revolvers  lying  upon  a  table  almost  in  reach. 


PERPLEXITY.  229 

But  the  other  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  held 
him  down,  with  eyes  more  dangerous  still. 

"The  lady  is  my  countrywoman,"  he  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "  For  that  reason,  also,  I  am  so  quiet  about  it.  If 
you  ever  trouble  her  again,  ever  breathe  even  of  this  visit, 
you  know  the  penalty,  you  scoundrel !  "  Saying  which,  he 
grasped  the  silken  beard  of  the  Turk  with  one  hand,  threw 
the  fragments  of  the  letter  into  his  face,  and  slapped  his 
cheek  soundly  with  the  other.  Then  he  picked  up  and  tossed 
the  pistols  into  a  bath-tub  near  by,  which  was  full  of  water 
for  a  morning  bath,  and  went  as  softly  out  as  he  had  entered, 
leaving  the  wretch  paralyzed  with  wrath  and  astonishment 
behind  him.  The  early  visitor  knew  perfectly  well  what  "he 
was  about.  Had  the  ruffian  been  French,  American,  English, 
he  would  have  pursued  a  different  course.  But  a  Turk  was, 
he  knew,  like  a  red  Indian.  Such  an  insult  breaks  the  spirit 
of  the  bravest  of  his  species.  Whether  as  an  individual  or 
an  empire,  the  only  argument  understood  in  that  realm  is 
the  application  of  force.  By  it  they  came  into  Europe,  by 
it  the  Turk  must  be  driven  out.  At  least,  what  he  did  was 
the  only  course  the  American  could  think  of,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  things  in  which  he  did  not  consult  any  one  before 
acting. 


CHAPTER  XLYI. 

PEKPLEXITY. 

ONE  day  Lord  Conyngham  called  by  appointment  at  the 
Hotel  Bristol.  It  was  early  in  the  morning  of  a  beautiful  day, 
and  he  and  his  friend  Henry  Harris  set  out  on  horseback  for 
a  ride  into  the  country.  The  American  was  mounted  upon 
a  favorite  chestnut  mare,  the  Englishman  rode  a  black  horse 
of  as  good  blood  as  the  other,  and  the  two  gentlemen  found 
it  difficult  to  hold  in  their  spirited  steeds  as  they  made  a 
way  for  themselves  through  the  crowded  streets.  At  last 


230  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

they  reached  the  suburbs.  "  Now  ! "  exclaimed  the  English 
man,  who  had  seemed  to  be  in  overflowing  spirits,  and,  giv 
ing  rein  to  their  horses,  they  rode  almost  as  if  for  a  race 
over  the  rolling  country  and  between  the  handsome  houses. 
More  than  one  of  the  police  called  after  them  in  vain  ;  the  air 
was  so  exhilarating,  the  animals  so  eager,  that  it  was  "  like," 
Henry  Harris  said,  "  shooting  the  rapids  of  the  St.  Law 
rence — impossible  to  stop  ! "  They  were  many  miles  from 
Paris  when  Lord  Conyngham  at  last  drew  rein — 

"  Because,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  and  I  intend 
to  do  it  frankly  and  fully." 

The  American  had  known  for  some  time  all  that  his 
companion  desired  to  say,  but  he  had  left  him  to  himself. 
During  their  acquaintance  a  great  change  had  taken  place 
in  the  Englishman.  He  was  a  sterling  fellow  at  heart,  but 
his  rank  and  associations  had  nearly  spoiled  him  at  one  time. 
Affected,  foppish,  conceited,  insolent,  arrogant,  he  had  sup 
posed  that  the  world  was  made  exclusively  for  him  and  for 
his  kind.  A  few  years  more  would  have  changed  all  this, 
which  so  far  was  but  a  mere  outer  manner,  into  the  very 
nature  of  the  man.  But  his  long  sojourn  at  the  Exposition 
had  benefited  him  ;  he  had  been  reading  much  of  late  ;  the 
spirit  of  the  times  was  changing,  and  he  felt  it ;  his  associa 
tion  with  young  Harris  had  done  him  a  world  of  good, 
as  his  influence,  too,  had  benefited,  although  in  other  ways, 
his  American  friend.  Above  all,  he  had  come  more  and 
more  into  the  gentle  but  plastic  hands  of  Mary  Harris.  In 
awakening  his  heart  she  had  also  aroused  what  might  almost 
be  called  his  conscience.  It  was  not  merely  his  affection,  it 
was  his  judgment  which  was  engaged. 

"  What  I  want  to  say  is  this,"  he  began  boldly,  as  the 
result  of  long  resolve,  then  hesitated,  stammered.  "It  is 
like  putting  my  horse  at  a  five-barred  gate,"  he  said ;  but 
then,  as  he  would  have  lifted  his  horse,  with  spurs  in  its 
flanks,  to  the  leap,  he  compelled  himself  to  add,  "  Mr.  Harris, 
your  father  is  in  Russia,  and  I  must  say  what  I  have  to  say 
to  you  instead.  Sir,  I  love  your  sister  ;  I  think  she  is  not 


PERPLEXITY.  231 

wholly  without  interest  in  me.  May  I  beg  that  you  will  con 
sult  your  father  and  mother  at  the  earliest  moment  ?  I  want 
to  marry  her,  if  the  alliance  is  agreeable  to  you,  and  as  soon 
as  you  will  allow." 

"  My  lord,"  the  other  said,  gravely,  "  I  thank  you  in  the 
name  of  my  family  for  the  honor  you  do  us.  You  have  been 
frank  with  me  ;  I  will  be  equally  so  with  you.  I  have  learned 
to  like  you  thoroughly.  You  will  allow  me  to  say,  I  know 
no  man  whom  I  would  be  so  glad  to  have  as  my  brother-in- 
law.  There  is  but  one  objection." 

His  companion  looked  at  him  for  an  instant  with  amaze 
ment  ;  then,  with  a  return  of  his  old  hauteur,  "  May  I  ask  what 
it  is  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  It  is  your  rank,"  was  the  cool  reply.  Lord  Conyngham 
gazed  at  the  other  in  wonder.  "  My  rank  !  "  he  said  to  him 
self  ;  "  why,  ever  since  I  was  a  boy  I  have  had  daughters  and 
their  matchmaking  mammas  after  me  on  that  account.  Yes, 
and  I  have  had  fathers  and  brothers  urging  me  to  come  to 
dinner  in  hopes  I  would  take  a  fancy  to  one  of  the  girls  of 
the  family.  A  lord  !  Great  heavens  !  it  is  because  I  am  a 
lord  that  I  have  been  pursued  from  London  to  Baden-Baden, 
from  Vienna  to  St.  Petersburg,  from  Rome  to  Paris,  up  the 
Alps,  up  and  down  the  Rhine  and  the  Nile.  Wherever  I  go 
there  are  swarms  of  girls  who,  I  beg  their  pardon,  would 
give  their  souls  to  the  devil  if  they  could  get  me,  and  all 
because  I  am  a  lord.  What  the  mischief — " 

"  My  lord,"  his  companion  was  saying,  "  if  you  were  a 
merchant,  a  farmer,  a  machinist,  anything  but  a  lord,  we 
would  greatly  prefer  it.  Not  that  I  am  a  radical,"  he  con 
tinued,  with  a  smile,  "but  that  we  seriously  object  to  be 
included  among  the  number  of  those  who  may  have  sought — " 

It  was  as  if  the  American  had  heard  what  he  had  said  to 
himself,  and  the  Englishman  bit  his  lips. 

"  Moreover,"  the  other  went  on,  "  we  are  perfectly  aware 
that  such  a  marriage  would  awaken  the  utmost  opposition  in 
your  own  family.  We  are  fully  as  proud  as  yourself — " 

But  the  blood  of  the  nobleman  was  up.     "  Mr.  Harris," 


232  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

he  said,  with  more  energy  than  the  other  had  observed 
in  him  before,  "  suppose  we  deal  frankly,  indeed,  with  each 
other.  Between  us  there  is  no  need  of  diplomacy.  The 
whole  thing  is  this  :  I  love  your  sister.  She  won't  say  that 
she  does  not  love  me.  With  her  consent  I  intend  to  marry 
her.  We  have  had,  I  will  confess  to  you,  the  deuce  of  a  time 
over  it  at  home.  It  is  not  that  my  father  does  not  highly 
respect — "  he  began. 

"  I  understand,  understand  perfectly,"  the  American  said, 
with  some  impatience. 

"Very  good.  But  I  am  of  age.  Moreover,  my  father 
has  never  had  any  of  the  trouble  with  me  which  other  gov 
ernors  have  had.  I  have  not  drank,  gambled,  ran  into  debt, 
eloped  with  anybody's  wife — all  that  sort  of  thing.  Fact  is, 
I  have  been  steadier  than  he  was  when  he  was  young.  This 
is  the  first  thing  he  has  objected  to  in  me.  But  I  told  him, 
she  told  him — " 

"  She  ?    Excuse  me,  who  do  you  refer  to  ?  " 

"  My  sister,  Lady  Blanche,  of  course.  From  the  first  she 
liked  your  mother  and  sister.  She  teased  me  awfully.  That 
of  course.  But  as  soon  as  she  saw  that  I  was  in  earnest,  do 
you  know  ? "  and  Lord  Conyngham  turned  in  his  saddle  to 
say  it,  "  Lady  Blanche  has  been  on  my  side  heart  and  soul  ! 
It  is  the  most  extraordinary  thing  !  She  is  as  proud  as 
Lucifer — if  a  man  can  speak  in  that  way  of  his  sister — 
and  I  never  was  more  astonished.  I  can't  understand  it 
yet ! " 

The  face  of  the  American  had  grown  cold  and  stern,  but 
the  other  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  own  matters  to 
observe  it. 

"You  see,"  the  Englishman  continued,  "the  Earl  is  old, 
is  terribly  determined.  He  can  not  understand  the  times. 
He  is  sadly  shaken  in  health.  We  are  afraid  any  great 
shock  will  kill  him.  There  is  not  a  grander  Englishman 
alive,  sir ! "  the  son  said  with  enthusiasm,  "  but  he  is  very 
determined  in  his  way.  We  are  not  rich,  sir.  You  may 
know  that  we  own  estates  enough,  but  our  tenants  have  failed 


PERPLEXITY.  233 

in  their  crops  year  after  year.  The  Earl  has  had  trouble  of 
late,  I  may  say,  severe  trouble."  The  tones  of  the  son  had 
softened  as  he  said  it. 

"  Your  father  is  to  me,"  his  companion  said,  "  the  noblest 
of  his  class,  as  I  happen  to  know,  so  far  as  tenant  troubles 
are  concerned.  They  are,  as  we  are  all  aware,  universal  in 
England.  If  the  next  crop  fails  you  will  have  had  five  years 
of  failure.  Providence  itself  is  fighting  against  you  by  the 
side  of  American  competition.  Pardon  my  saying  so,  but 
you  are  on  the  eve  of  a  profound  revolution  in  England. 
Primogeniture,  entail,  feudalisms  of  all  kinds,  all  are  bound 
sooner  or  later  to  go,  my  lord  !  Again  excuse  me  for  saying 
it,  but  it  is  so  !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  but,"  added  the  nobleman, 
"you  may  depend  upon  us  to  fight  to  the  last.  JVbblesse 
oblige !  Nothing  but  Providence,  as  you  call  it,  can  conquer 
us,  and  it  will  be  one  of  the  longest  and  toughest  jobs  Prov 
idence  ever  undertook  !  But  it  was  not  of  that  I  wished  to 
speak.  The  Earl  is  older  than  you  think ;  he  is  almost  in 
firm.  Although  Blanche  is  younger  than  myself,  he  has 
always  regarded  her  as  if  she  were  the  older.  By  Jove  !  I 
wish  she  were  his  son  instead,  and  his  oldest  son  !  Anyway, 
Blanche  has  more  influence  on  him  than  I  have.  She  has 
done  her  best  for  me.  Women  understand  when  to  speak, 
and  how.  We  have  conquered  !  The  Earl  knows  that,  pro 
vided  your  sister  consent,  I  shall  marry  her  in  any  case. 
He  will  not  oppose  it.  But,  for  I  must  be  frank,  he  yields 
his  consent  because  he  has  come  to  know  that,  if  I  do  not 
marry  Miss  Harris,  I  will  in  all  likelihood  go  to  the  devil, 
whereas  if  I  do  marry  her  I  will  devote  myself  to  my  social 
and  political  duties.  Mr.  Harris,"  Lord  Conyngham  said, 
gravely,  "  my  father  holds  your  family  in  the  highest  esteem. 
For  your  sister  he  has  the  sincerest  appreciation.  She  will 
be  welcomed  into  our  family  as  she  deserves  to  be.  You 
can  rest  sure  of  that." 

The  American  bowed  his  head  in  silence.  He  was  aware 
that  more  was  coming. 


234  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  am  obliged  to  say,"  Lord  Con- 
yngham  proceeded — "  obliged,  because  it  is,  to  be  perfectly 
plain  with  you,  an  additional  reason  why  my  father  has 
yielded.  It  is  this."  But  the  speaker  hesitated  to  go  on. 
He  glanced  uneasily  at  his  friend,  spurred  his  horse  on,  then 
reined  him  in,  looked  about  as  if  for  relief  from  some  quarter, 
seemed  to  be  sadly  put  out. 

"My  lord,"  the  American  remarked  at  last,  "I  think  I 
know  what  you  are  about  to  say.  Please  say  it.  I  am  not 
an  old  man,  but  I  have  some  knowledge  of  the  world.  If  I 
indulge  at  any  time  in  day-dreams,  I  know  how  to  endure 
whatever  is  inevitable.  You  were  about  to  speak  of  the 
Duke  of  Plymouth."  It  was  said  calmly,  for  the  speaker 
had,  for  some  time  now,  accustomed  himself  to  the  matter  in 
hand.  For  many  months  the  gossips  had  been  full  of  it ;  in 
timations  of  the  kind  had  long  been  afloat  in  the  papers. 

"  Yes,"  the  Englishman  now  said,  "  Blanche  is  to  marry 
the  Duke  of  Plymouth  !  "  He  did  not  look  at  his  friend  as 
he  said  it,  and,  although  the  other  knew  it  before,  it  was  as 
though  he  had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart. 

"  If  I  could  have  my  way,"  the  nobleman  continued,  "it 
is  not  the  Duke  who  would  have  married  her.  I  will  venture 
to  add  that  I  do  not  think  Blanche  would  have  broken  her 
heart  if  the  Duke  had  broken  his  neck  the  last  time  he  rode 
a  steeple-chase.  Oh  !  he  is  a  good-enough  man.  The  fact 
is,"  it  was  added  with  an  effort,  "  we  are,  as  I  said,  by  no 
means  as  rich  as  we  should  be.  My  father  lived  freely  when 
in  his  minority,  as  his  father  did  before  him.  After  his  mi 
nority,  too,  heavy  debts  were  incurred.  No,  by  Jove  !  we 
are  not  rich,  far  from  it !  Your  solicitors  will  know  all  about 
that  when  we  arrange,  if  I  am  so  happy  as  to  gain  the  consent 
of  your  family,  our  marriage  settlements.  As  to  the  Duke, 
he  is  clever  enough — confound  such  a  state  of  things  !  "  It 
was  irrelevant,  but  it  was  said  with  the  sincerest  energy. 

"It  will  be  confounded  soon  enough,"  the  American 
added  to  himself,  and  he  remembered  a  Hindoo  proverb 
which  Ishra  Dhass  had  quoted  to  him  one  day  :  "  Where  there 


THE  YOUNG  ARTIST.  235 

is  the  least  injustice,  sooner  or  later,  it  shrivels  the  very  sky 
itself  as  though  it  were  the  cast-off  skin  of  a  snake."  But 
the  glory  had  gone  out  of  the  day  to  Henry  Harris.  He  was 
glad  on  account  of  his  sister,  of  his  friend,  since  they  loved 
each  other  ;  but  what  remained  for  him  ? 

"  My  lord,"  he  said  at  last,  "  your  father,  the  Earl,  must 
take  the  initiative  in  regard  to  your  matter.  Until  that 
time  I  can  say  no  more.  As  to  myself,  I  must  get  away  from 
Paris.  I  leave  for  Russia  very  soon.  Everything  is  ar 
ranged,  and  I  intend  to  get  to  the  bottom,  if  I  can,  of  the 
Nihilism  which  threatens  the  empire." 

"  And  I  will  go  with  you,"  his  companion  said.  "  I  told 
Mary — I  beg  your  pardon — your  sister,  I  mean.  She  opposed 
it,  but  afterward  consented.  We  will,  if  you  can  obtain  the 
consent  of  your  family,  be  married  soon  after  my  return." 
But  even  the  joyous  lover  was  sobered  by  the  stern  calmness 
of  his  friend,  and  the  remainder  of  their  ride  was  given  to  a 
discussion  of  matters  connected  with  their  proposed  invasion 
of  the  realms  of  the  Czar.  But  never  before  had  the  Ameri 
can  endured  such  agony  as  that  which  had  now  fallen  upon 
him.  It  was  an  agony  which  found  relief  at  last  only  in 
silence  and  solitude. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE     YOUNG     ARTIST. 

IT  so  chanced  that  at  the  very  hour  Henry  Harris  and 
Lord  Conyngham  were  taking  together  their  memorable  ride, 
Mrs.  Margaret  Han-is  and  her  daughter  were  on  a  visit  to 
the  studio  of  Zerah  Atchison.  It  was  very  rarely  that 
mother  or  daughter  took  so  decided  a  liking  to  any  one,  but 
their  hearts  had  been  drawn  to  the  artist  and  his  daughter 
from  the  first. 

"It  is  impossible  not  to  venerate  such  a  man,"  Mrs. 
Harris  said  to  Mary  as  they  rode  in  their  carriage  thither 


236  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

that  day.  "  I  have  met  in  Rome  and  elsewhere  those  who 
are  enthusiasts  in  art,  but,  alas  !  their  conceit  of  themselves 
is  almost  always  in  the  degree  of  their  genius,  often  in  ad 
vance  of  it.  Now,  Mr.  Atchison  has  the  artistic  faculty  to 
the  highest  degree,  but  accompanied  by  the  sincerest  hu 
mility.  Already  refined  by  his  art,  his  patient  trust  has 
purified  even  his  refinement.  He  and  his  daughter  have 
also  been  so  separated  from  the  world  that  they  are  like 
children  together,  simple  and  good.  Their  devotion  to  each 
other  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  things.  Amid  the 
uproar  and  glitter  of  Paris,  the  fierce  competition  of  fashion 
and  business,  to  be  in  their  room  is  like  getting  back  to  a 
quiet  rural  home  in  America.  That  is  why  I  go  there  so 
often.  I  love"  to  hear  them  talk.  It  is  pleasant  to  watch 
them  at  work,  too,  only  I  observe  that,  whenever  I  am  there, 
Isidore  keeps  what  I  would  judge  to  be  her  chief  occupation 
under  cover  of  a  cloth,  while  she  trifles  apparently  with  a 
Cupid  in  clay.  It  is  better,"  Mrs.  Harris  added,  with  a 
smile,  "that  she  should  be  at  work  on  Cupid  than  that  the 
mischievous  imp  should  be  at  work  on  her." 

"  She  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  ;  she  is  too  much 
shut  out  from  all  society  !  "  Mary  defended  her  friend 
warmly.  "  I  am  more  interested  in  her  than  in  almost  any 
girl  I  know  !  Our  friends,  Virginia  Jossellyn  and  Ellen 
Ellsworth,  for  instance,  have  nothing  on  earth  to  do  but  to 
see  and  be  seen,  while  her  head,  her  hands,  her  heart,  are  full 
of  art  and  her  father.  Now,  I  think  that  a  girl  without  some 
enthusiasm  for  music,  for  sculpture,  for  painting,  for  some 
thing,  is  a  poor  creature.  And  did  you  ever  know,  mamma, 
so  unconventional  a  girl  ?  She  is  like,  Henry  says,  what  one 
reads  concerning  the  virgins  of  Greece  in  the  days  of  Apelles, 
she  is  so  supple,  flexible.  When  he  said  that,  I  read  to  him 
what  Wordsworth  says  of -his  Lucy." 

"  Since  you  have  had  such  a  pupil  in  Lord  Conyngham," 
the  mother  suggested,  with  a  demure  smile,  "  your  enthusi 
asm  seems  to  be  for  teaching.  But  what  does  Wordsworth 
say?" 


THE  YOUNG  ARTIST.  237 

"  O  mamma  ! "  her  daughter  said,  reproachfully,  and  not 
without  a  blush  ;  "  but  listen.  The  words  got  themselves  by 
heart  without  any  effort  of  mine  : 

"  '  Through  years  she  grew  in  sun  and  shower ; 
And  Nature  said:  A  lovelier  flower 

On  earth  was  never  sown. 
This  child  I  to  myself  will  take ; 
She  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  make 

A  woman  of  my  own. 

"  '  Myself  will  to  my  darling  be 

Both  law  and  impulse ;  and  with  me 

The  girl  in  rock  and  plain, 
In  earth  and  heaven,  in  glade  and  bower, 
Shall  feel  an  overseeing  power 
To  kindle  or  restrain.' 

Please  let  me  quote  a  little  more,"  Mary  said,  "  it  describes 
Isidore  so  well : 

"  '  The  floating  clouds  their  state  shall  lend 
To  her ;  for  her  the  willow  bend ; 

Nor  shall  she  fail  to  see, 
E'en  in  the  motions  of  the  storm, 
Grace  that  shall  mold  the  maiden's  form 

By  silent  sympathy. 

" '  The  stars  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 
To  her ;  and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 

In  many  a  secret  place, 
Where  rivulets  dance  their  wayward  round, 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 
Shall  pass  into  her  face.' 

Now,"  Mary  continued,  "  Isidore  has  lived  apart  from  the 
world  with  nature  until  hers  has  become  the  beauty  of 
nature  itself.  In  addition,  she  has  conformed  herself  uncon 
sciously  to  her  father's  ideal  of  art,  has  grown  like  living 
clay  under  his  critical  eye  and  molding  hands.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 


238  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"I  am  not  as  poetical  as  you,  my  dear,"  the 'mother  said, 
"  although  I  agree  with  you  as  to  her  lovely  simplicity.  You 
know  how  almost  furious  Plenry  becomes  at  the  foolish  girls 
who  paste  little  curls  about  their  brows,  and  bedizen  and  be 
little  themselves,  as  he  calls  it.  He  admires  Miss  Atchison 
exceedingly  in  comparison,  and  then  we  are  naturally  inter 
ested  in  what  your  brother  has  told  us  of  her  half  brother 
and  his  singular  mother.  I  never  knew  Henry  to  be  more 
interested  in  a  man  than  he  is  in  Achilles  Deschards.  He 
never  wearies  of  reading  to  us  his  brilliant  papers,  and  won 
dering  how  it  is  that  the  intellect  can  work  so  vigorously 
apart  from  all  sincere  conviction.  He  studies  him  as  he 
would  a  bit  of  novel  machinery." 

"  But  he  can  not  bring  himself,"  Mrs.  Harris  added,  "  to 
tell  Mr.  Atchison  that  he  is  his  son.  He  fears  it  would  re 
sult  in  more  pain  to  him  than  pleasure." 

"  Is  he  sure  that  he  is  his  son  ?  "  Mary  asked.  "  How  can 
it  be  possible  ?  " 

"  Out  of  pure  curiosity  I  have  encouraged  him  to  investi 
gate  it,"  Mrs.  Harris  said.  "  He  has  had  experts  at  work.  The 
mother  of  Deschards  has  had  no  reason  to  conceal  anything, 
and,  in  some  way,  the  detectives  have  traced  mother  and  son 
from  their  first  coming  to  Paris,  so  many  years  ago.  The 
French  surveyor  who  ran  away  with  her  married  her,  gave 
the  boy  his  own  name,  had  him  thoroughly  educated,  but 
died  at  last,  leaving  his  widow  wholly  dependent  upon  her 
son,  for  there  were  no  other  children.  From  a  very  early 
age  the  son  has  had  to  struggle  desperately  to  make  his  way. 
Henry  says  that  it  is  this  which  perplexes  him  so  ;  the  devo 
tion  of  the  lad  and  then  the  man  to  his  mother  is  the  very 
thing  which  has  driven  him  to  prostitute  his  remarkable 
talent  as  a  writer  ;  it  is  to  make  money  for  her — for  him 
self,  too,  and  his  pleasures  that  he  is,  Henry  says,  as  indif 
ferent  to  the  nature  of  the  literary  work  he  does  as  if  be  were 
a  steel  pen  or  a  leaden  type.  His  gratification  is  in  the 
money  he  makes,  in  the  rapid  exercise  of  his  talent ;  except 
his  mother,  he  cares  for  nothing,  whether  it  be  virtue  or  vice, 


THE  YOUNG  ARTIST.  239 

God  or  Satan.  From  long  habit,  too,  he  is  simply  an  intel 
lect  utterly  devoid  of  conscience.  His  affection  for  his  moth 
er  is  the  one  thing  which  prevents  him,  Henry  says,  from 
being  intellectually  an  unmingled  devil.  Yes,  this  increases, 
of  course,  our  interest  in  Mr.  Atchison,  his  father,  and  in  Isi 
dore,  his  sister,  who  are  so  eager  to  know  about  him  and  yet 
so  unconscious  of  the  facts.  But  here  we  are." 

Zerah  Atchison  was  at  work,  when  they  had  ascended 
the  stairway  and  stood  at  the  door,  upon  his  portrait  of  De- 
lira,  the  girl  who  had  fled  from  him  in  his  youth.  His 
daughter  also  was  at  work,  and  not  upon  the  Cupid,  but  upon 
a  bust  near  by,  which  so  absorbed  her  that  she  no  more  heard 
the  knock  at  the  door  than  did  her  father.  But  the  ladies, 
standing  outside,  thought  they  heard  an  invitation  to  enter, 
and,  opening  the  door,  they  paused  for  a  moment  unobserved. 
The  light  so  fell  into  the  room  that  the  faces  of  both  artists 
were  away  from  them  as  the  visitors  came  silently  in,  but 
this  enabled  those  visitors  to  see  the  work  they  were  at  more 
distinctly,  and  mother  and  daughter  made  the  same  excla 
mation  : 

"  It  is  Henry  !  " 

At  the  word  the  girl  seized  upon  a  wet  cloth  lying  near 
by  and  was  about  to  throw  it  over  the  clay,  but  "  You  are 
too  late,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  stepping  forward  and 
grasping  her  hand,  while  Isidore  seemed  covered  with  con 
fusion. 

"  I  am  sure  you  have  no  cause  to  hide  it,"  Mary  exclaimed, 
with  eagerness. 

"  O  mamma,  is  it  not  good  ?  It  is  Henry  to  the  life  !  I 
am  so  glad  ! " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  success,"  Mr.  Atchison  said,  with  a  glad  face, 
"  but  it  is  not  a  portrait  of  your  son.  She  had  worked  for 
weeks  upon  her  ideal  of  Sorrow.  All  that  she  accomplished 
was  a  head  representing  Wretchedness  instead — Misery,  I 
ought  to  say." 

"  And  it  was  the  most  miserable  Misery  you  ever  beheld," 
the  girl  pleaded,  holding  the  cloth  still  in  her  hand. 
11 


24:0  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  She  had  to  abandon  it,"  her  father  went  on,  "  and  so 
she  began  to  work  upon  her  ideal  of  Purpose  instead.  If  it 
is  like  your  son,  madam,  it  is  his  fault,  not  hers.  But,"  and 
the  artist  laid  aside  the  father  and  assumed  the  critic,  "  I 
could  not  but  approve  the  work  when  I  saw  that  she  had  the 
genuine  inspiration.  It  is  excellent,  madam  ;  it  is  most  ad 
mirable.  But  it  is  not  your  son,  it  is  her  ideal  of  Purpose,  as 
I  said,  manly  Purpose,  noble  Purpose,  but  that  is  it,  Purpose  ! 
See  how  the  lips  are  slightly  parted,  observe  the  lift  of  the 
brow,  the  elastic  vigor  of  the  neck,  the  repose,  yet  stern  in 
tention — "  But  the  mother  did  not  listen  to  the  old  critic  ; 
her  eyes  were  oveltflowing  with  happy  tears  as  she  gazed 
upon  the  clay.  It  was  not  that  it  was  an  admirable  likeness 
of  her  son  alone,  it  was  that  she  recognized  as  never  before 
the  character  of  her  boy.  It  was  a  revelation  to  her,  and  to 
the  sister,  of  all  that  they  had  secretly  hoped  for  in  regard 
to  the  son  and  beloved  brother.  Here  was  the  authentic 
declaration  of  it  as  from  the  hand  of  Truth.  Yes,  he  was 
full  of  purpose,  noble  purpose  ! 

"  Why,  mother  !  "  Mary  remonstrated,  but  she  was  weep 
ing  herself — it  was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  child."  Mrs.  Harris  took  Isidore  by 
either  shoulder  as  she  spoke,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again. 
Out  of  sympathy  Isidore  also  wept,  as  Mary  too  kissed  her 
with  many  thanks. 

"  It  is  so  with  me,"  Mr.  Atchison  hastened  to  say  ;  "  when 
ever  I  see  a  genuine  work  of  art  it  moves  me  to  tears.  The 
first  time  I  saw  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  Murillo  I  wept 
like  a  baby.  I  congratulate  you,  Isidore  ;  you  have  suc 
ceeded,  my  dear  !  And  I  congratulate  you  also,  ladies,  that 
you  have  the  artistic  faculty  of  recognizing  genius  when  you 
see  it.  Besides,"  added  the  delighted  old  man,  "  she  has  not 
finished  it.  Moreover,  it  will  look  still  better  when  it  is  cut 
in  the  marble.  The  solidity  of  the  marble  will  lend  addi 
tional  strength  to  the  idea  of  Purpose  which  Isidore  intended. 
For  it  is  not  your  son,  I  assure  you,  it  is  not ! "  he  added,  with 
energy  and  some  trace  of  mortification  ;  "  it  is  purely  ideal, 


THE  YOUNG  ARTIST.  241 

as  Isidore  will  tell  you."  "With  his  head  on  one  side,  the  old 
man  was  looking  closely  and  with  almost  a  rueful  face  at  his 
daughter's  work. 

Isidore,  too,  seemed  to  be  sadly  disturbed.  With  her 
eyes  cast  down,  she  shrank  as  if  her  efforts  were  being  severe 
ly  condemned  instead.  Evidently  she  was  so  much  distressed 
even  that  Mrs.  Harris  whispered  to  her  daughter,  in  compas 
sion,  "  Let  us  say  no  more  now.  We  took  her  unawares.  It 
was  a  kind  of  shock.  Artists  never  like  any  one  to  see  their 
work  until  it  is  finished."  As  it  was  said,  the  young  girl  had 
hastily  covered  the  clay  over  again,  but  the  delighted  mother 
could  not  refrain  from  saying  to  her  in  a  low  tone  :  "  You 
must  pardon  us  for  breaking  in  upon  you  so,  my  dear,  but 
remember  that  the  bust  is  mine.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I 
have  bought  it." 

There  was  no  consent  to  this  on  the  part  of  the  girl.  She 
thanked  the  other  modestly,  but  her  eyes  were  still  cast  down, 
or  lifted  with  a  troubled  look.  The  visitors  had  known  the 
girl  in  many  of  her  varying  moods,  but  when  she  remained 
so  silent  Mrs.  Harris  took  pity  on  her. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  said,  "  we  called  on  a  little  errand 
to-day.  My  husband  has  written  to  Henry  from  Russia  in 
regard  to  a  matter  which  he  thinks  may  interest  you.  But 
he  must  call  and  tell  you  about  it  himself."  Then  mother 
and  daughter  both  examined  the  Cupid  slumbering  upon  its 
wooden  stand  near  by,  with  many  kind  commendations.  Af 
ter  that  they  looked  closely  at  the  picture  upon  which  the 
father  was  at  work. 

"  It  is  his  latest  work,  but  if  that  is  like  Delira,"  Mary 
said,  as  they  rode  home  at  last,  "  there  is  not  a  trace  of  her  in 
the  old  woman  we  saw.  Yet  there  is  a  strong  likeness  be 
tween  it  and  Deschards.  And  yet  he  had  better  have  died 
when  a  baby.  Is  it  not  a  strange,  strange  world,  mamma  ?  " 

Mrs.  Harris  did  not  answer  her  daughter,  did  not  seem 
even  to  hear  her  ;  she  was  buried  in  thought.  For  some  days 
after  it  was  the  same.  Mary  had  never  known  her  mother  to 
be  so  silent,  so  reserved.  She  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it. 


242  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE     LAY     BROTHER.  ^ 

OtfE  day  Henry  Harris  chanced  in  passing  near  the  shop 
of  M.  Portou,  the  anatomist,  to  meet  his  friend  Ishra  Dhass, 
the  Brahmin,  and  a  sudden  fancy  seized  upon  him.  "I 
wish,"  he  remarked  to  the  Hindoo,  after  conversation  upon 
other  topics,  "  that  you  would  go  with  me  on  a  visit  to  him," 
and  he  described  the  Jesuit  shopkeeper  to  Ishra  Dhass  at 
length. 

"Nothing  could  give  me  more  pleasure,"  the  Hindoo 
said,  his  dark  eyes  lighting  up,  his  habitual  good-humor  in 
creasing,  as  it  very  easily  did  to  cordial  gladness.  To  tell 
the  truth,  the  American  shrank  a  little  from  the  Jesuit,  as  he 
did  from  going  among  the  dry  bones  and  stuffed  animals  of 
his  assortment. 

"  It  is,"  he  explained  to  his  friend  as  they  walked,  "  like 
going  into  a  cemetery  ;  especially  when  I  get  into  close 
quarters  with  this  anatomist,  who  is  also  a  Jesuit,  I  gasp  for 
breath  as  if  I  had  left  the  sunshine,  the  free  air,  the  ordinary 
common  sense  of  living  men  behind,  and  had  gone  down  into 
the  deepest  vaults  of  the  dead.  It  may  be  because  of  my 
practical  training,  but  I  feel  worse  than  when  I  was  crawling 
through  the  catacombs  of  Rome,  for  in  M.  Portou  it  is  as  if 
I  met  with  one  of  the  dead  there,  and  with  a  dead  man  who 
somehow  is  alive,  and  who  is  determined  that  I  should  aban 
don  everything  I  consider  to  constitute  life,  and  to  force  me, 
if  he  can,  to  be  a  living  corpse  also." 

"I  understand,"  the  Brahmin  said,  with  an  eager  ges 
ture  ;  "  only,  if  one  of  the  dead  in  the  catacombs  could  talk 
with  you,  he  would  want  you  to  be  what  I  am  instead,  a 
Christian  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  a  simple  follower  of 
the  Nazarene,  as  Christians  were  in  the  first  and  second 
centuries.  You  and  your  good  mother  and  sister,  all  of  you 
English  and  American  Christians,  of  whatever  denomination, 
are  nearer  to  the  Jesuit  than  you  think." 


THE  LAY  BROTHER.  243 

It  was  said  with  that  joyous  certainty  of  manner  which 
caused  people  to  accept  what  the  Brahmin  said  in  spite  of 
themselves  ;  there  was  a  subtle  yet  substantial  and  undenia 
ble  truthfulness  in  it,  as  of  sunshine  and  morning  dew.  But 
the  two  men  were  by  this  time  at  the  shop  of  the  articulator 
of  bones.  M.  Portou  was  delighted  to  see  his  visitors,  and, 
after  due  salutations,  he  showed  them  with  alacrity  the 
various  treasures  of  his  somewhat  ill-smelling  establishment. 
After  a  good  deal  of  general  conversation,  the  owner  led 
them  into  an  inner  room,  and  entreated  them  to  partake  of 
certain  bottles  of  rare  old  wine,  which  he  happened  to  have. 
As  he  produced  them  from  a  little  cellar,  brushed  off  the 
dust  and  cobwebs,  and  arranged  the  glasses,  the  anatomist 
was  saying  to  himself  :  "  Ah,  what  glory  to  God  and  to  us  if 
they  were  brought  by  me  into  the  light  !  This  ignorant 
Hindoo  has  vast  influence  in  his  own  land  and  in  Europe 
also  ;  what  a  trophy  he  would  be  !  And  this  clear-headed 
American  millionaire  too  !  Apart  from  his  money  even,  he 
would  be,  ah,  heavens  !  what  an  accession  to  our  influence 
in  America  !  His  sister,  his  mother,  his  father,  would  follow 
him  into  the  Church.  It  would  be  the  making  of  me  with 
the  order.  Forgive  me,  O  God,  my  miserable  selfishness, 
and — "  But  heaven  alone  knew  the  intensity  of  his  suppli 
cation,  even  in  the  act  of  bustling  about  with  his  wine,  for 
help  to  convert  his  guests. 

"Now,  M.  Portou,"  the  young  American  said  at  last, 
"  you  remember  how  frank  I  was  in  telling  you  that  I  knew 
to  what  order  you  belong.  I  have  told  Ishra  Dbass  of  it, 
have  told  him  of  your  courage  and  energy  in  penetrating 
even  into  the  secrets  of  socialism  at  Madame  Mosseline's. 
The  man  must  be  sincere  who  hopes,"  Henry  added,  turning 
to  the  Hindoo,  "  to  benefit  such  a  vile  wretch  as  that  unprin 
cipled  woman."  To  his  astonishment  their  host  exclaimed, 
vehemently : 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  speak  so  of  her  ! "  It  was  said  with 
a  sudden  warmth  of  which  the  speaker  seemed  to  be  ashamed 
the  next  instant,  for  he  added,  as  if  putting  Madame  Mosse- 


244  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

line  out  of  the  discussion  :  "  Of  myself  I  am  willing  to 
speak.  I  am  of  the  order,  as  you  say,  of  the  Jesuits  ;  for 
sufficient  reasons  I  disguised  myself  ;  strategy  is  always 
allowable  in  war,  and  we — alas  !  upon  us  all  the  world  is  at 
war." 

"  Please  let  me  explain,"  the  American  said.  "  I  am  the 
son  of  very  practical  people  ;  my  whole  life  has  been  given 
to  practical  questions  ;  now,  what  I  hate  most  in  anything  is 
inaccuracy,  uncertainty.  I  like  to  work,  to  work  hard,  but 
I  must  see  distinctly  what  I  am  at.  No  man  likes  more 
than  I  do  to  go  ahead  as  rapidly  as  I  can,  but  I  must  be 
sure  I  am  right  before  I  take  a  step.  My  time  with  you 
to-day,  my  time  in  Paris,  is  limited,  but  I  am  consumed 
with  a  craving  to  get  at  the  bottom  facts,  to  know  as  per 
fectly  as  possible  in  regard  to  everything  I  can.  Now,  it  is 
not  of  mysteries  of  doctrine  that  I  wish  to  speak  ;  of  course 
there  are  mysteries  in  that  as  in  everything.  What  I  want 
to  know  is  as  to  practical  facts.  You  are  the  first  Jesuit  I 
have  been  thrown  with,  at  least,  when  there  was  such  oppor 
tunity  of  frank  conversation.  I  shall  esteem  it  a  singular 
favor  if  you  will  answer  clearly,  definitely,  certain  questions 
I  would  like  to  ask." 

Their  host  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  man  generally  of  a 
sluggish,  not  to  say  stupid,  aspect.  It  was  a  natural  dis 
guise  nature  had  given  him,  for  under  it  was  anything  but  a 
stupid  intellect.  He  sat  now  with  his  hands  crossed  upon 
his  breast.  Although  engaged  in  almost  unceasing  prayer 
while  he  talked,  he  concentrated  himself  upon  the  matter  at 
hand.  Too  much  was  at  stake  not  to  do  so.  "  I  will  gladly 
do  what  I  can,"  he  said,  with  courteous  humility,  "  to  inform 
you  and  your  friend.  Please  proceed,"  for  he  had  an  intui 
tion  of  what  was  coming. 

"I  deal  with  iron,  with  steel,  in  my  business,"  Henry 
Harris  said.  "  In  our  shops  we  have  to  measure  and  weigh 
things  with  painful  precision.  The  variation  of  an  ounce 
in  the  making  of  a  valve  may  result  in  the  explosion  of  a 
boiler ;  the  divergence  of  a  hair's  breadth  in  the  construe- 


THE  LAY  BROTHER.  245 

tion  of  a  lever,  of  a  shaft,  of  a  wheel,  may  wreck  a  railway 
train,  and  massacre  scores  of  souls.  Pardon  me  if  I  repeat 
that  I  do  not  consider  myself  to  know  any  matter  at  all  un 
less  I  know  it  accurately  and  finally." 

The  Jesuit  smiled  at  the  almost  peremptory  manner  of 
his  visitor,  but  the  eyes  of  the  Hindoo  glittered  with  a  cer 
tain  satisfaction. 

"  Well,  monsieur  the  engineer,  will  you  have  the  kind 
ness  to  ask  your  questions  ?  "  It  was  said  by  the  Jesuit  with 
great  good-humor,  but,  behind  his  almost  pulpy  face,  he 
stood  upon  his  guard,  like  a  gladiator  behind  his  shield. 

"I  have  read,"  Henry  Harris  remarked,  "the  Syllabus 
very  closely,  have  studied  what  Gladstone,  Cardinal  Man 
ning,  Monsignore  Capel,  and  others,  have  to  say  upon  the 
subject,  but  somehow  the  matter  has  been  swathed  in  cloud, 
wordy  assertion,  vaporous  denial.  What  I  want  to  get  at," 
the  American  continued,  with  almost  indignation,  "is  the 
simple  fact.  In  the  Syllabus  and  elsewhere,  I  find  certain 
distinct  declarations  by  the  highest  authority  in  the  Roman 
Church,  but  when  I  try  to  learn  from  Catholics  the  positive, 
final  meaning,  it  eludes  me,  it  evaporates,  M.  Portou,"  and 
the  young  man  became  slow  and  cool  as  he  went  on.  "  I  am 
glad  I  have  to  do  with  a  brave  man.  Please  tell  me  this  : 
your  Church  claims  to  be  the  only  true  Church  on  earth,  does 
it  not  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  the  other  replied  ;  "  when  Christ  gave  the 
keys  to  Peter — " 

"  Pardon  me,  but  all  I  wanted  to  get  at  was  the  mechani 
cal  fact,  not  the  reasons,"  interrupted  the  other.  "Your 
Church  claims  then  the  sole  and  exclusive  right  to  marry  as 
well  as  to  bury  ?  " 

The  other  assented.  "I  will  explain — "  he  began,  but 
the  visitor  did  not  give  him  time. 

"  As  the  only  Church  on  earth  it  has,"  he  asked,  "  a  right 
to  suppress  every  other  where  it  can  by  force  ;  is  that  so  ?  " 

"  It  has  ;  of  course  we  prefer  moral  suasion,  but — " 

"  Thank  you,  only  this  further  question  :  not  the  State, 


246  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

only  your  Church,  has  a  right  to  control  the  education  of  the 
young  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  it  alone  has  the  right,"  their  host  said,  ris 
ing  to  his  feet.  "  There  are  those,  alas  !  in  my  communion 
who  would  hesitate,  prevaricate,  endeavor  to  explain  away 
even  that  which  is  most  sacred.  They  charge  with  duplicity 
the  order  I  unworthily  represent.  Gentlemen,"  the  anato 
mist  added,  "  I  am  but  a  lay  brother,  as  we  call  it,  of  the  or 
der,  and  yet  do  I  not  know  that  we  alone  believe  in  and 
assert  the  authority  of  the  Church  as  it  has  been  held  in  all 
ages,  as  it  is  held  to-day  by  every  real  believer  ?  I  believe 
in  the  Church  as  I  do  because  I  believe  in  God.  The  chil 
dren  of  Voltaire  may  scoff,  but  the  day  comes  when  the  false 
and  shallow  civilization  of  the  times  will  have  perished, 
when  the  Church  will  reign  supreme  throughout  the  entire 
world  ! " 

"  As  it  did  in  the  days  of  Hildebrand  over  Europe  ?  As 
it  attempted  to  do  in  the  days  of  Philip  II  of  Spain  ?  M. 
Portou,  I  thank  you,"  the  American  continued,  rising  to 
his  feet,  "and  I  honor  you  for  your  sincerity.  Also,  I 
thank  you  for  your  information.  Now  I  know.  If  I  be 
lieved  as  you  do,  I  would  belong  to  your  order.  I  like  a 
man  to  be  out  and  out  in  whatever  he  undertakes.  Good 
day." 

But  the  anatomist  was  not  willing  to  part  with  his  visitors 
so  abruptly.  He  talked  long  and  with  impassioned  eloquence, 
entreating  them  to  read  certain  books  which  he  gave  them, 
beseeching  them  to  pray  for  divine  help,  assuring  them  of 
his  own  prayers  on  their  behalf.  The  man  evidently  be 
lieved,  and  with  intense  sincerity,  in  all  he  said,  and  the  two 
men  listened  respectfully. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  the  Hindoo  said,  as  they  walked  away 
together  at  last,  "  mistaken  as  that  man  is,  can  you  say  that 
you  Protestants  are  as  terribly  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  classed  us  together  before  we  went  into  the 
house,"  Henry  Harris  retorted. 

"In  a  sense  you  are  one  with  him.     Let  me,"  the  Brah- 


THE  LAY  BROTHER.  247 

min  added,  "  be  as  concise  and  clear  with  you  as  possible. 
I  gave  up  my  caste,  my  gods,  my  kindred,  everything  ;  but 
it  was  to  believe  in  Jesus,  the  Christ ;  not  in  you  as  English 
or  American,  not  in  your  church  governments,  not  in  your 
books  of  theology,  but  in  the  Bible,  and  in  the  Christ  alone." 

"  We  believe  in  him,"  his  friend  remonstrated. 

"  Do  you  ?  Ah,  perhaps  you  do,  but,"  the  Oriental  said, 
"  yours  is  a  Christ  who  once  lived  long  ago,  a  Christ  who  is 
to  come  again  centuries  hence.  Yes,  and  whenever  you  think 
of  him  at  all,  you  believe  you  will  see  him  when  you  die. 
But  I  ?  I  believe  in  a  Son  of  God  who  walks  here  this  mo 
ment  between  you  and  me.  I  am  Peter,  I  am  James,  I  am 
Thomas  with  Jesus,  precisely  (you  like  to  be  precise,  you 
say)  as  when  he  and  they  were  together  by  the  lake  on  the 
slopes  of  Bethany.  He  is  here  now.  He  means  all  he  says. 
He  made  the  world,  and  he  is  King  of  the  world.  It  is  as  when 
heralds  run  before  to  tell  a  city  that  its  emperor  is  coming  ; 
very  little  the  people  care  for  the  heralds  when  the  monarch 
comes  riding  up  the  street  in  person.  John,  the  first  herald, 
said,  '  I  must  decrease,  but  he  must  increase,'  and  it  is  aston 
ishing  how  the  heralds  of  all  sects  are  waning  every  hour  as 
the  Christ  of  Bethlehem  comes  himself  to  possess  every  land, 
even  although  he  does  it  only  by  means  of  his  servants.  Oh, 
as  to  your  forms,  symbols,  systems,  I  dare  say  that  they,  like 
those  of  the  Jews,  have  been  of  essential  use,  but  the  veil  is 
being  rent  again,  I  assure  you.  People  are  yearning  to  tear 
away  the  mere  drapery  and  to  get  at  the  Christ !  Religion  is 
too  much  an  affair  of  men,  men,  men,  instead  of  him.  Not 
that  I  don't  love  men,  poor  fellows  like  myself,  but,"  said  the 
Hindoo,  with  tropical  fervor,  as  vigorous  as  it  was  full  of 
joy,  "  bless  your  soul,  I  prefer  the  Son  of  God  !  And  '  I,  if 
I  be  lifted  up,'  he  said,  '  will  draw  all  men  unto  me  ! '  How 
clear  and  plain  God  made  everything  to  us  by  being  born  as 
a  babe  there  in  Syria  !  Who  knows  ?  He  may  come  to  men 
again  by  way  of  Syria.  I  don't  know  how,  when,  where, 
but  as  sure  as  you  live,  when  he  does  come,  it  will  be  in  and 
by  poor  people,  who  will  love  him  as  the  Johns  and  the 


248  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

Philips  did,  with  a  simple,  childlike  fervor.  Depend  upon  it, 
there  is  nothing  in  Christianity  except  one  thing — Christ. 
And  be  sure  of  this  too,"  the  Hindoo  said,  with  radiant  face, 
"  the  glory  of  Christ  lies  in  the  splendor  of  his  simplicity. 
You  want  exactness,  do  you  ?  You  wish  to  see  and  grasp 
the  substance  of  things,  do  you,  as  you  do  your  iron  and 
your  steel,  your  valves,  levers,  wheels  ?  Well,  you  know  all 
religion  when  you  know  the  man  Jesus." 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

DILUTED    BLOOD. 

RIDING  on  horseback  had  always  been  with  Henry  Har 
ris  his  favorite  exercise.  Whatever  else  he  could  or  could 
not  afford,  he  always  owned  the  best  horses  in  reach,  and 
he  now  possessed,  in  his  chestnut  mare  Bessie,  an  animal 
which  he  loved  and  rode  more  than  any  he  had  ever  had. 
Whenever  she  could  do  so,  Mary  rode  with  him,  on  a  smaller 
horse  which  her  brother  had  selected  for  her.  Lord  Conyng- 
ham  had  ridden  with  him  on  several  occasions,  but  "You 
ride  so  fast  and  so  far,"  he  had  been  constrained  to  tell  him, 
at  last,  "  that  I  can  not  stand  it.  For  days  after  I  am  too 
sore  to  sleep,  to  sit,  or  to  walk.  You  must  have  learned  to 
ride  among  the  Tartars  of  the  Ukraine." 

"  I  enjoy  it  more  than  anything  else,  and  so  does  Bessie," 
was  the  reply. 

The  time  had  been  when,  mounted  on  her  brother's  black 
horse  Malakoff,  Lady  Blanche,  also,  had  ridden  with  the 
impetuous  American.  She,  too,  had  enjoyed  it  immensely. 
"  It  is,"  she  had  said  to  him  once,  as  they  rode  through  the 
country  near  Paris,  "  like  the  flight  of  an  eagle.  I  love 
strength,  speed,  force,  whatever  lifts  me  away  from  people 
in  general,  whatever  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  not  merely 


DILUTED  BLOOD.  249 

going  somewhere,  but  doing  something.  I  wish  I  were  a 
man !  " 

"  I  do  not.  You  are  too  perfect  as  a  woman.  But,  sup 
pose  you  were  one  of  my  baser  sex,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 
her  companion  asked. 

"  Do  ?  "  and  she  lifted  her  head  as  she  rode.  "  Do  ?  I 
would  break  loose  from  the  miserable  falsehoods  of  society  ; 
would  trample  down  its  wretched  affectations  and  mean 
nesses  ;  would  assert  myself  against  mere  money  and  rank 
and  fashion.  I  would  no  longer  be  only  what  other  people 
try  to  make  me  ;  I  would  be  myself." 

She  gave  her  horse  a  sharp  cut  as  she  said  it,  and,  in  the 
leap  which  Malakoff  made,  it  was  as  if  he  had  carried  her, 
with  a  bound,  clean  over  the  barriers  which  had  hitherto  im 
prisoned  her.  Henry  had  to  spur  Bessie  to  keep  up  with 
her.  "  And  then  what  would  you  do  ?  "  he  said,  greatly  in 
terested  in  the  spoiled  child  of  society. 

"  Then  ?  When  I  had  freed  myself  ?  Then,"  she  said, 
"  I  would  turn  around  and,"  here  she  gave  Malakoff  another 
cut,  which  caused  him  to  spring  forward  again,  "  and  charge 
upon  and  overthrow  the  tyranny  from  which  I  had  escaped." 

But  all  that  seemed  as  if  it  had  taken  place  ages  before, 
when,  the  day  after  his  visit  with  Ishra  Dhass  to  the  shop  of 
the  anatomist,  the  American,  in  riding  along  upon  horse 
back,  saw  the.  open  carriage  of  Earl  Dorrington  approaching 
him  near  the  Place  Vendome,  and  in  it  Lady  Blanche  seated 
beside  the  Duke  of  Plymouth.  Henry  Harris  had  been  riding 
alone,  and  for  hours,  that  morning.  He  had  been  alone, 
and  yet,  from  vivid  memory  of  their  last  ride  together  along 
the  same  road,  it  was  as  if  Lady  Blanche  had  ridden  beside 
and  kept  him  company.  Really,  it  had  been  but  a  short 
time  before,  and  yet  there  was  the  same  woman  sitting  in 
the  carriage,  very  beautifully  dressed,  her  hands  lying  re 
laxed  in  her  lap ;  indeed,  it  was  hard  to  suppose  that  she 
was  the  same  person,  she  seemed  so  pale  and  languid. 

Yes,  and  it  was  the  Duke  of  Plymouth.  He  did  not 
recognize  the  American.  It  was  not  because  he  was  very 


TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

near-sighted  only,  nor  because  the  Duke  cared  little  for 
anybody.  To  do  him  justice,  he  was  not  as  selfish  as  many 
a  man,  and  would  do  a  kindness  when  he  could.  Lord  Con- 
yngham,  like  his  father,  the  Earl,  had  thought  himself  su 
perior  to  the  race  in  general ;  had  been  insolent,  haughty, 
overbearing,  in  consequence,  until,  at  last,  he  had  come 
under  the  influence  of  Mary  and  her  brother,  which  had 
made  him  a  manlier  man,  by  making  him  to  know  things  to 
a  broader  and  clearer  degree  as  they  actually  were.  But  the 
Duke  was  not  like  Lord  Conyngham.  He  was,  in  every  sense, 
a  smaller,  weaker  man.  Everything  that  wealth,  rank,  the 
best  opportunities  at  Oxford,  the  highest  association,  could 
do,  had  been  done  for  him.  It  had  been,  however,  like  ex 
hausting  the  art  of  a  sculptor  upon  the  pith  of  an  elder-stalk 
instead  of  upon  marble,  or  even  upon  wood.  He  was  of  a 
weakly  constitution,  and  he  had  done  what  he  could  to  ex 
haust  even  that  by  his  dissolute  habits. 

"  What  else  could  we  expect  ?  "  the  American  thought, 
in  the  first  instant  of  seeing  him.  "  He  has  had  many  cen 
turies  of  ancestors,  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  spend 
money  made  by. ancestors  before  them.  It  is  not  in  hu 
man  nature  that  they  should  not  have  wasted  themselves 
as  well  as  their  money.  Poor  fellow !  his  very  tendencies 
to  vice  are  hereditary.  No  wonder  that  his  scanty  hair 
and  beard  are  like  wisps  of  hay  ;  that  his  face  is  dry  and 
colorless  ;  that  his  eyes  are  like  the  ashes  of  a  dead  fire  ; 
the  sap,  the  blood,  the  very  life  of  the  man,  body  and  soul, 
mind  and  heart,  has  run  so  far  down  the  ages  that  it  is  run 
out.  I  dare  say  his  first  progenitors  were  big  and  burly  fel 
lows,  men  strong  of  bone,  vigorous  of  muscle,  full  of  blood 
and  of  will — powerful  ruffians,  who  laid  about  them  with 
their  broadswords  like  the  lusty  Englishmen  they  were. 
The  torrent  of  blood  in  them  has  dwindled  down  in  this 
poor  gentleman  into  the  feeblest  of  rills.  But  Heaven  have 
mercy  upon  her  I " 

It  was  all  over  in  a  flash  ;  the  carriage  went  rapidly  ;  so 
did  the  mare  upon  which  Henry  rode.  The  lady  had  sunk 


DILUTED  BLOOD.  251 

into  an  indifference  to  everything,  but — for  there  is  a  mag 
netism  in  such  approaches  to  each  other — she  lifted  her 
eyes  and  saw  the  American  as  he  raised  his  hat  in  passing. 
He  seemed  flushed  with  unusual  strength  from  his  ride  ;  his 
eye,  in  hers,  was  as  strong  and  steady  as  was  his  hand 
upon  the  reins  of  the  animal  he  bestrode.  Only  an  in 
stant  ;  but  in  that  instant  she  fell,  as  it  were,  down  a 
precipice,  and  from  heaven  to  hell,  in  falling  back  from 
him  to  the  man  beside  her.  She  might,  perhaps,  recover 
herself  after  a  while  by  recalling  the  vast  wealth  of  the 
Duke,  his  exalted  position,  and  the  like  ;  but — and  here  was 
the  trouble  with  him — it  was  exactly  his  rank  and  wealth 
which  were  the  burden  of  his  life,  which  crushed  him  to 
the  earth.  One  day,  George  Harris  was  speaking  of  people 
in  general  to  his  son  Henry.  It  was  at  the  Bodega,  and, 
the  Duke  happening  to  pass  them,  the  father  called  the  at 
tention  of  his  son  to  the  shy,  nervous  little  man,  not  dream 
ing,  however,  of  any  reason  why  his  son  should  be  specially 
interested  in  him* 

"  Do  you  see  that  small,  washed-out  man  beside  the  foun 
tain  ? "  he  had  asked.  "  Well,  that  is  the  Duke  of  Plym 
outh.  Do  you  observe  how  bloodless  he  is  ?  He  has  been 
bled  to  death  by  mosquitoes." 

"By  mosquitoes?  Has  he  been  in  Florida,  in  Cuba? 
Where  was  it? "'the  other  demanded,  with  surprise. 

"  He  has  lived  in  mosquitodom  ever  since  he  was  a  tender 
and  tempting  baby,"  was  the  grave  reply.  "Let  me  ex 
plain,  for  I  have  met  him  all  over  Europe.  I  know  him,  and 
almost  every  insect,  too,  of  his  swarm  of  mosquitoes  by 
heart.  That  poor  Duke  has  been  pursued  ever  since  he 
was  born  by  enemies  worse  than  the  insects  I  have  men 
tioned.  You  have  read  of  Orestes  chased  by  the  Furies,  of 
the  heroes  who  had  to  fly  for  their  lives  from  the  hungry 
harpies,  have  read  about  vampires,  and  all  that.  Now,  this 
victim  has  had  parasites  too  small,  too  numerous,  to  be  classed 
as  other  than  the  mosquitoes  of  a  Louisiana  swamp.  Ever 
since  he  can  remember  has  he  been  pursued  by  obsequious 


252  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

tradesmen,  by  thievish  valets,  by  men  of  fashion,  who  seek 
to  fasten  themselves  upon  him,  in  order  to  share,  in  some 
degree,  both  his  position  and  his  purse.  He  has  been  game, 
hunted  down  by  gamblers,  by  speculators  of  all  sorts,  by 
landlords,  by  disreputable  women,  by  artists  even,  and  ar 
chitects  ;  but  his  most  persistent  pursuers  have  been  match 
making  mothers  of  high  rank  and  their  fair  daughters. 
There  is  no  thirst  on  earth,  sir,  so  desperate  as  that  for 
money,  unless  it  be  a  thirst,  still  more  frantic,  for  social  po 
sition  ;  and  this  poor  fellow  unites  in  himself  both  wealth 
and  rank  of  the  grandest  degree,  and  to  such  a  degree  that 
thirst  mounts  to  frenzy  of  desire  where  he  is  concerned. 
Now,"  George  Harris  added,  "if  the  Duke  were  anything 
of  a  lion  he  might  turn  on  his  foes  and  rend,  or  at  least  roar 
at  them.  If  he  were  only  a  fox  he  might  double  upon  them, 
dart  into  some  hole,  cheat  them  in  some  way.  Alas  !  he  is 
only  a  rabbit,  and  a  rabbit  who  has  not  the  wit  even  to  hide 
under  a  hedge.  There  are  only  two  alternatives  for  that 
man  : , either  he  must  die  or  he  must  marry  some  woman  smart 
and  strong  enough  to  defend  him  from  his  insatiable  foes. 
He  is  so  run  down  that  he  has  become  shy  of  every  shadow  ; 
he  hears  the  hateful  buzz  of  a  new  mosquito  in  every  man, 
every  woman  especially,  who  speaks  to  him.  It  is  only  the 
female  mosquito,  you  are  aware,  which  sings  and  bites. 
With  all  his  envied  rank  and  wealth,  that  man  told  me,  one 
day,  after  we  had  had  a  particularly  good  dinner  managed 
to  assure  me,  on  the  honor  of  a  Duke  and  in  the  strength  of 
the  venison  and  champagne  he  had  taken  and  I  had  not, — it 
was  business  in  connection  with  an  iron-mine  of  his  which 
drew  us  together — that  he  didn't  care  a  toss-up  whether  he 
lived  or  died.  '  The  only  reason,  by  Jove  ! '  he  whimpered 
to  me,  '  why  I  don't  lie  down  and  die,  and  be  done  with  it, 
is  that  the  family  will  become  extinct  with  me.  I  am  the 
last  of  my  race,  sir.'  Of  course  he  was  braced  up  by  the 
liquor,  or  he  would  not  have  had  the  energy  to  confess  the 
fact.  But  he  is  a  good  fellow,  my  son,"  the  father  went  on, 
"  a  really  not  bad-hearted  man  at  all.  He  means  well,  but 


DILUTED  BLOOD.  253 

he  is  unfortunate,  you  see.  He  is  nothing,  at  last,  but  a  poor 
little  pygmy,  crushed  to  the  earth  by  the  coronets,  castles, 
rent-rolls,  money-bags,  chests  of  plate,  hangers-on  of  a  race 
of  giants.  That  is  the  merciful  provision  of  nature  ;  the 
dodo  is  not  the  only  thing  which  has  become  extinct.  Hun 
dreds  of  the  old  houses  of  England  have  run  out  in  that 
way.  The  yellow  fever  dies,  they  tell  me,  for  lack  of  ma 
terial  to  feed  upon  ;  well,  the  ducal  house,  in  the  case  of  this 
man,  is  dying  out  for  want  of  material ;  "  and  the  sensible  old 
man  would  have  added  much  more,  although  to  no  one  in 
such  a  strain  but  his  son.  Henry  Harris  was,  however,  sud 
denly  called  off. 

But  he  thought  of  it  all  to-day  when  he  saw  who  rode 
with  Lady  Blanche.  In  all  his  knowledge  there  was  no 
woman  so  worthy  to  be  queen  of  the  world  as  she  was,  and 
here  she  was  about  to  marry  a  man  who,  in  himself  consid 
ered,  was  hardly  strong  enough  or  sensible  enough  to  hoe 
cabbages  in  the  meanest  kitchen  garden  on  her  father's  es 
tates.  "  And  the  misery  of  it,"  he  moaned,  as  he  rode  on, 
"  is  that  they  know  it,  both  of  them.  She  knows  the  Duke 
as  well  as  I  do,  better  perhaps.  My  father  himself  has  not  a 
more  accurate  knowledge  of  him  than  she  has.  And  he 
knows  it !  There  is  no  conceit  in  him.  No  man  knows 
better  than  he  does  that  she  is  marrying  his  title  and  his 
estates,  that  there  is  no  possible  companionship  between 
them  any  more  than  between  a  pug  and  its  mistress,  with 
the  affection  between  a  woman  and  her  pet  left  out.  Ah  ! 
but  it  is  the  devil's  own  world  ! " 

He  remembered,  as  he  said  it,  that  he  had  a  message  from 
his  father,  who  had  returned  from  Russia  only  to  hurry  back 
again — he  almost  lived  on  the  road — which  would  take  him 
to  the  house  of  Zerah  Atchison.  His  bitterness  died  out  as 
he  thought  of  the  pleasure  he  would  impart  when  he  had 
told  his  errand  to  the  father  and  daughter.  Reining  Bessie 
in,  he  turned  down  another  street  and  rode  slowly  toward 
the  home  of  the  old  painter.  And  yet,  how  he  suffered  as 
he  rode  along  !  How  could  he  see  Lady  Blanche  married  to 


254:  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

another  !  And  could  his  own  father  have  known,  when  he 
spoke  of  the  Duke,  of  what  was  taking  place  ?  It  was  not 
often  George  Harris  had  spoken  so  freely  ;  he  must  have 
had  a  motive. 


CHAPTER  L. 

CREATIVE    JOY. 

WITH  her  refined  nature  and  sensitive  disposition,  Mary 
Harris  inherited  a  love  for  the  beautiful  in  all  its  forms. 
She  was  an  excellent  judge  of  pictures,  and  her  experience 
and  criticisms  in  passing  through  the  art  galleries  of  the 
Exposition  were  invaluable.  She  intuitively  selected  the 
choicest  gems,  and  often  became  so  enraptured  with  the 
subject  delineated  on  the  canvas  that  she  could  readily  in 
terpret  the  spirit  of  the  picture  and  almost  read  the  thoughts 
of  the  artist  who  placed  the  results  of  his  imagination  before 
them.  Passing  rapidly  over  many  of  the  most  imposing 
and  highly  colored  paintings,  she  frequently  lingered  to 
revel  in  the  sentiment  and  finish  of  an  unobtrusive  canvas 
half  hidden  in  a  secluded  corner,  and  more  than  once  inter 
ested  her  companions  in  her  descriptions  far  more  than  they 
would  have  been  capable  of  being  interested  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  Her  early  education  in  biblical  and  historic 
lore  enabled  her  readily  to  unravel  and  decipher  what  seemed 
to  others  a  mass  of  mysteries.  "  Rizpah  and  her  Seven 
Sons,"  in  the  French  Department,  which  attracted  the  atten 
tion  of  everybody,  yet  often  caused  a  repulsive  shudder, 
was  to  Mary  Harris  full  of  enjoyment,  as  typifying  the  in 
tensity  of  the  mother's  love,  and  her  hearers  forgot  the  hor 
ror  of  the  surroundings  while  gazing  upon  the  sublime  hero 
ism  and  unspeakable  affection  depicted  upon  the  countenance 
of  the  unhappy  woman. 

Without  being  an  artist,  she  had  a  sincere  appreciation 
for  art,  far  more  skill  than  the  average  girl  of  the  period, 


CREATIVE  JOT.  255 

and  her  fondness  for  ceramics,  for  statuary,  mosaics,  and 
bronzes  led  her  frequently  to  the  repositories  of  art,  and  in 
duced  her  friends  who  were  not  specially  addicted  to  them 
to  acquire  a  similar  taste,  and  to  prefer  spending  their  time 
with  her,  instead  of  in  other  and  hitherto  more  congenial 
departments. 

One  morning  she  remained  in  the  studio  of  Zerah  Atchi- 
son  for  some  time,  watching  the  painter  and  his  daugh 
ter  at  work.  Isidore  had  removed  the  "  Purpose,"  upon 
which  she  had  been  so  busy  when  Mary  had  been  there  be 
fore,,  and  which  the  delighted  mother  and  daughter  had 
claimed  to  be  a  likeness  of  Henry,  and  was  engaged  upon  her 
Sleeping  Cupid.  She  seemed  to  be  almost  shy  of  her  visitor 
and  was  singularly  silent  throughout  her  stay,  and  Mary  felt, 
she  knew  not  why,  that  it  would  be  best  to  make  no  allusion 
to  the  absent  bust.  It  was  on  this  account,  also,  that  she 
devoted  herself  to  the  old  artist  instead,  who  was  still  occu 
pied  with  his  endeavor  to  bring  back  again,  on  canvas  at  least, 
the  Delira  of  his  earlier  days.  Mary  had  almost  recoiled  with 
surprise  when  she  first  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  painting. 

"  Oh,  how  good  it  is  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  as  if  the 
girl  were  herself  coming  upon  me  out  of  the  woods.  She 
looks  like  an  Indian.  What  eyes  !  What  fawn-like  freedom 
of  step  !  She  seems  to  be  actually  breathing  between  her 
parted  lips.  Were  she  alive,  it  could  hardly  be  more  real. 
Is  it  not  wonderfully  good  ?  "  she  asked,  for  information,  and 
as  if  the  artist  were  merely  a  spectator  like  herself. 

"  Yes,  it  is  admirably  done.  It  is  by  far  the  best  work  I 
ever  did,"  the  old  man  made  answer  with  a  species  of  solemn 
joy.  "  As  I  have  told  you,  my  critical  faculty  exceeds  my 
creative  power,  exceeds  it  so  much  that  I  have  not  as  yet 
been  able  to  produce  one  painting  which  I  cared  to  preserve  ; 
not,  at  least,  until  I  painted  this.  Sincerely,  it  is  a  master 
piece.  I  am  willing  to  place  it  on  the  walls  of  any  exhibi 
tion,  confident  that  it  will  be  recognized  as  such  by  every 
one.  I  thank  God  that,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  have 
reached  my  ideal.  It  reminds  me  of  Thorwaldsen." 


256  1SE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Oh  no,  father  !  no,  no  !  "  his  daughter  broke  in,  almost 
in  tears  ;  "  please  do  not  say  that,  please  do  not !  " 

"  You  foolish  child  ! "  the  old  man  said,  in  loving  tones. 
"  Thorwaldsen,  the  great  sculptor  of  Denmark,"  he  explained, 
turning  to  their  visitor,  "  was  found  lying  almost  insensible 
at  the  base  of  a  Christ  which  he  had  just  finished  in  colossal 
marble.  '  Up  to  this  hour,'  he  told  his  wondering  friends, '  I 
have  never  been  pleased  with  what  I  have  wrought.  To 
day  I  look  at  my  Christ,  and  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  it. 
By  that  I  see  that  I  have  reached  my  highest  summit.  It 
only  remains  that  I  should  die,'  which  he  did  not  long  after 
ward." 

"  Your  picture  is  perfect,  but,"  Mary  ventured,  "  you  are 
too  wise  a  man  to  indulge  in  such  notions." 

"  Who  is  wise  ?  "  the  old  man  demanded  ;  "  and  what  are 
talent,  genius  ?  I  have  known  of  great  masters  who  have 
toiled  for  years,  and  toiled  in  vain,  to  produce  what  was  so 
vividly  before  their  very  eyes  almost  that  nothing  less  than 
that  could  satisfy  them.  A  painter  looks  at  a  completed 
work ;  alas  !  it  is  but  the  ghost  of  what  he  had  intended. 
Over  that  he  paints  yet  another,  and  of  the  same  subject. 
This  also  is  the  merest  specter  of  what  he  had  hoped  to  do  ; 
worse,  perhaps,  than  the  other.  But  his  ideal  burns  in  the 
air  before  him,  and  he  persists.  The  next  time  it  is  a  cari 
cature,  a  something  worse  still.  But  his  ideal  pursues  him 
day  and  night,  as  his  murdered  mother  Clytemnestra  did 
Orestes,  and  he  must  put  the  haunting  form  upon  canvas. 
And  so  he  goes  patiently  to  work  once  more.  On  one  occa 
sion,  when  I  praised  a  picture,  the  artist  said  to  me,  *  Alas ! 
yes  ;  but  it  is  painted  upon  the  top  of  many  a  failure  ;  under 
neath  that  picture  are  buried  a  dozen  pictures,  each  of  which 
cost  me  months  of  toil.'  " 

"  It  is  so  with  me,"  Isidore  said,  modestly.  "  I  am  not  a 
great  artist,  yet  the  bust  of  my  father,  which  you  liked, 
emerged  out  of  weary  months  of  work,  out  of  cart-loads  of 
rejected  clay,  of  ruined  marble." 

"  But  it  was  worth  the  effort,"  her  friend  said,  eagerly ; 


CREATIVE  JOY.  257 

adding  :  "  Is  it  not  always  so  ?  I  was  visiting  once  at  the 
house  of  a  distinguished  author.  He  had  just  published  a 
little  volume  which  was  having  what  is  called  a  great  run. 
When  I  congratulated  him,  he  said,  '  Would  you  like  to  see 
the  chaos  out  of  which  that  book  arose  ? '  Taking  me  to  a 
lumber-room  adjoining  his  study,  he  showed  me  the  whole 
floor  covered  deep  with  blotted  manuscript  and  scattered 
masses  of  printed  proof.  '  Look,'  he  said,  holding  up  his 
wee  bit  of  a  book,  '  it  took  all  that  to  produce  this?  *  Yes,' 
I  told  him,  '  but  that  is  the  dirt  out  of  which  a  diamond  has 
come.  Even  if  there  were  tons  of  quartz,  the  gold  we  have 
got  from  it  would  be  worth  the  litter  and  labor  going  be 
fore.'  '  I  don't  know,'  he  said  ;  '  if  you  but  knew  how  very 
often  I  had  to  revise  every  sentence,  out  of  what  a  vexatious 
whirlwind  of  mistake,  blunder,  blockheaded  boobyism  of 
mine  this  little  volume  has  emerged,  you  would  agree  with 
me  that  it  is  hardly  worth  the  work.'  Dickens  says  the 
same,"  Mary  continued — "  that  every  page  he  wrote  Avas  the 
result  of  long  and  hard  work.  The  result  seems  so  simple 
that  anybody  could  write  it,  and  yet  he  had  to  write,  re 
write,  revise,  correct,  correct  corrections,  and — " 

"  Only  to  reach  something  at  last,"  the  old  artist  said 
for  her,  "as  simple  as  a  pearl.  It  is  as  when  one  drives 
an  artesian  well  downward  through  thousands  of  feet  of 
rock,  clay,  sand,  that  the  pure  water  may  gush  up.  But  it 
is,  when  it  does  come,  from  the  center  of  the  globe,  from  the 
heart  of  the  world  !  Heaven  knows  what  sleepless  nights, 
days  of  toil  and  defeat,  in  addition  to  years  of  practice  at 
other  work  before,  I  have  given  to  this  canvas.  At  last,  at 
last,  the  Delira  of  my  youth — the  living  girl,  as  I  knew  her 
among  her  mountains — steps  out,  and,  with  a  smile,  says, 
1  Well,  here  I  am  at  last  ! ' " 

"  She  repays  you  for  all,"  Mary  murmured,  as  she  gazed 
upon  the  breathing  result — the  hands  reached  out  from  the 
canvas  as  if  to  greet  again  her  creator ;  the  eyes,  lips, 
cheeks,  instinct  with  life  ;  it  was  almost  as  if  they  could  see 
the  robe  lift  to  the  throb  of  the  heart,  the  heave  of  the  lungs. 


258  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"Yes,  it  is  all  I  can  do.  And,"  the  artist  added,  "it  is 
in  that  way  that  the  Great  Artist  is  at  work  upon  each  of  us. 
Ah,  what  years  he  has  to  give  to  a  man  or  a  woman  ;  what 
severe,  repeated,  terrible  trials  !  Just  as  a  man  begins  to 
emerge,  thinking,  Now  I  must  be  all  right  at  last  !  his 
Maker  dashes  him,  as  it  were,  into  the  dust  again,  saying, 
No,  not  yet !  And  all  the  suffering  has  to  be  endured  again. 
But  in  the  end,  when  one  comes  up  out  of  what  seemed 
at  the  time  to  be  the  utter  wreck  of  death  and  the  grave, 
then  even  the  Master  can  smile  upon  his  perfected  creature 
and  say,  Very  good  !  So  good  as  to  be  worthy  of  eternal 
association  with  the  best  in  the  universe,  with  God  him 
self." 

But  at  this  moment  Henry  Harris  entered.  Isidore 
seemed  to  awake  suddenly  out  of  her  reserve. 

"  O  Mr.  Harris,"  she  exclaimed,  impulsively,  "  we  have 
found  her,  have  found  her  !  "  She  pointed,  as  she  spoke,  to 
the  wild  woman  stepping  out  from  the  canvas.  The  next 
instant  she  remembered  herself  and  turned  away,  blushing 
at  her  enthusiasm,  mortified  at  herself,  almost  ready  to  cry 
like  a  child. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE   YEARNINGS    OF   NATURE. 

HENRY  HARRIS  was  as  much  delighted  when  he  saw 
Zerah  Atchison's  painting  as  his  sister.  "  It  must  be  an  ex 
cellent  likeness  of  your  Delira,"  he  said,  after  gazing  upon 
it  long  and  carefully  ;  "  because  it  is  true  to  nature.  I  do 
not  think  that  any  one  can  improve  upon  the  Supreme 
Artist,  and  therefore  my  idea  of  a  well-painted  landscape, 
for  instance,  is  when  its  frame  is  as  that  of  a  window,  through 
which  you  actually  look  out  upon  nature  itself.  So  of  his 
torical  paintings.  Who  cares  for  those,  as  a  specimen,  which 
portray  Christ  and  his  apostles  as  if  dressed  for  a  festival, 


THE  YEARNINGS  OF  NATURE.  259 

in  theatrical  attitudes,  with  voluminous  robes,  great  keys, 
shepherd  crooks,  crosses,  and  the  like  ?  My  heart  is  satisfied 
when  I  see  Jesus  exactly  as  his  own  disciples  saw  him  ;  as 
near  to  it,  at  least,  as  it  is  possible  for  the  artist  to  put  on 
canvas.  That  is,  I  suppose,  a  defect  of  my  practical  char 
acter.  I  don't  want  a  particle  of  fog  to  rest  upon  anything 
in  which  I  am  to  be  interested  ;  I  must  see  it  as  under  noon 
day  light ! " 

But  the  old  painter  was  looking  dreamily  upon  his  pic 
ture.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  DeKra.  As  I  sit  here  it  all 
comes  back  to  me,  those  young  days  of  mine  among  the 
wild  woods,  when  I  was  so  highly  resolved  to  be  a  great 
painter.  How  ardent  I  was,  how  eager,  how  confident !  I 
would  study,  would  work,  work,  work  !  Oh,  how  hard  I 
would  work  !  Yes,  I  would  paint  pictures  which  would 
electrify  the  world.  I  would  build  a  studio,  would  fill  it 
with  busts,  bronzes,  portfolios  of  engravings,  suits  of  armor. 
Men  would  come  from  far  away  to  see  me.  I  would  help 
poor  students,  would  found  an  academy  of  arts.  Yes, 
Delira,"  he  said,  sadly,  "you  will  bear  me  witness  that  it 
was  not  you  I  loved,  it  was  my  divine  art.  I  hardly  blamed 
you  when  you  left  me.  I  was  almost  glad  of  it ;  it  was  my 
art  I  loved.  But  you  are  alive  again,  Delira  ;  you  rise  from 
the  dead,  bringing  me  in  your  hands  those  old,  happy,  hope 
ful  days.  The  hopes  of  success  have  vanished,  but — " 

"Mary,  Miss  Atchison,  Mr.  Atchison,  listen  to  me," 
Henry  interrupted  him.  "  When  David,  the  illustrious 
French  artist,  had  finished  a  painting  of  his  coronation  for 
the  first  Napoleon,  the  Emperor  visited  it,  attended  by  a 
brilliant  cortege  of  courtiers.  "When  he  had  examined  it 
long  and  thoroughly,  he  turned  to  David,  lifted  his  hat 
from  his  head,  and  bowing  low,  he  said  :  '  M.  David,  in  the 
name  of  France  and  of  the  world,  I  salute  you  ! '  I  am  not 
an  emperor,"  Henry  continued,  "  but  I  can  represent  all  men 
who  have  eyes  to  see,  and,  Zerah  Atchison,  you  have  achieved 
a  grand  success  ;  you  are  one  of  the  masters  ;  in  the  name 
of  America  and  of  Europe  I  salute  you  !  "  bowing  low. 


260  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

It  was  done  by  the  speaker  with  gravity,  and  even  the 
French  Emperor  could  not  have  spoken  with  more  dignity  or 
grace,  and  as  he  spoke  his  sister  went  up  to  the  old  man, 
took  his  hand  in  hers,  and  kissed  him.  A  new  light  flashed 
in  the  aged  eyes  of  the  artist,  the  head  was  held  more  ergot, 
the  patience  of  the  face  became  radiant,  and  Mary  turned  to 
Isidore,  placed  a  hand  upon  either  cheek,  and  kissed  her  again 
and  again.  But  the  girl  shrank  a  little  when  Henry  took 
her  little  hand  in  his  to  congratulate  her.  Her  eyes  were 
dim  with  tears,  her  color  came  and  went  ;  she  was  silent, 
embarrassed.  Then  she  glanced  at  her  father,  her  habitual 
gladness  came  back,  and,  flying  across  the  room,  she  kissed 
and  fondled  him  as  a  mother  might  have  done  rather  than  a 
daughter. 

As  she  did  so,  Henry,  by  some  subtile  reminder,  saw  once 
more  Lady  Blanche  instead  seated  beside  the  Duke  of  Plym 
outh.  "  She,  too,  is  beautiful,"  he  said  to  himself  of  the 
proud  Englishwoman,  "  but  she  is,  at  best,  merely  a  part  of 
a  system  of  society.  Strong,  intelligent,  lovely,  full  of  all 
daring  impulse  as  she  is,  what  at  last  is  she  but  a  bit  of  bril 
liant  stone  ground  down,  shaped  accurately,  as  by  sharp  tools, 
to  fit  into  her  place  in  the  grand  mosaic  of  English  society  ? 
She  is  but  one  figure  of  the  procession  which  has  come  down 
from  the  Norman  conquest.  Love  her  '{  I  might  as  well  try 
to  clasp  to  my  heart  one  of  those  colossal  caryatides  of  mar 
ble  which  I  saw  at  Athens.  She  is,  alas !  but  a  pillar  and 
part  of  the  British  edifice.  I  dare  say  she  will  harden  into 
stone  as  she  feels  the  pressure  upon  her  more  and  more. 
Duchess  of  Plymouth  !  Yes,  but  I  could  wish  your  duke 
were  worthier  of  you  !  " 

"  Is  she  not  lovely  ?  "  Mary  was  saying  to  him  of  Isidore. 
"  Did  you  ever  know  such  a  child,  such  a  beautiful,  gifted 
child  ?  She  is  as  much  a  part  of  nature  as  a  rose  or  a  lark. 
Why  is  it  that  she  has  such  a  dewy  smile  ?  Her  face  is  like 
morning ;  even  when  she  cries  it  reminds  one  of  an  April 
day.  I  am  in  love  with  her !  But  don't  tell  them  about 
that  odious  Achilles  Deschards  ;  why  should  you  ?  " 


TEE   YEARNINGS  OF  NATURE.  261 

"  It  would,"  Henry  whispered  to  her  in  return,  "  be  like 
letting  Satan  into  Paradise  to  admit  him  here.  But  I  can 
not  say  as  yet  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  must  wait  and  see." 

"  I  only  lack  one  thing,"  the  aged  artist  said,  as  he  began 
again  to  touch  his  picture  here  and  there,  while  Isidore 
busied  herself  again  with  her  Cupid,  "  and  that  is  my  boy." 

"You  do  not  know,"  Henry  said,  "that  he  is  alive. 
Even  if  he  is  living,  who  can  say  what  sort  of  a  man  he  may 
be  ?  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  he  is  a  dissolute,  unprinci 
pled,  abandoned  man.  He  might  be  a  wretch  who  would 
consume  your  earnings,  who  would  reel  home  to  you  drunk, 
who  would  insult  you,  terrify  your  daughter,  break  your 
heart.  If  he  is  living,  I  merely  say  that  he  might  be  all  this, 
and  worse." 

"  He  would  still  be  my  son — my  own  son,  and  I  have 
never  seen  his  face.  Bad  as  he  might  be,"  the  artist  pleaded, 
"  he  would  be,  even  then,  but  one  of  the  many  things  belong 
ing  to  me  which  have  hurt  and  tried  me  to  the  utmost. 
There  are  many  men  of  my  peculiar  kind,"  the  aged  painter 
continued,  "  to  whom  severe  and  unceasing  pain  of  body  and 
of  mind  is  assigned  as  their  natural  atmosphere.  It  is  with 
me,  although  I  am  like  them  only  in  my  exceeding  sensitive 
ness,  as  it  was  with  Chatterton,  Burns,  Keats,  Coleridge, 
Shelley,  Alfred  de  Musset — perpetual  suffering  is  their  por 
tion  and  mine.  We  live  in  the  tropics  of  flame.  Did  you 
ever  read,  Mr.  Harris,  the  story  of  poor  Haydon,  the  Eng 
lish  painter  ?  He  writhed,  his  life  through,  as  upon  burning 
coals.  But  I  have  no  intention  of  killing  myself  as  he  did," 
the  artist  added,  with  a  smile.  "  Ah,  no  ;  God  is  preparing 
me  for  something — not  here — in  the  other  and  eternal  life. 
Moreover,  have  I  not  Isidore  ?  and  you,  too,  have  been  so 
kind,  kind  ! " 

"  You  have  Delira  too  ;  you  have  forgotten  her,"  his 
daughter  laughed. 

"  Yes,  I  have  her,  and  the  youth,  the  memories,  she  brings 
with  her.  Old  people,"  her  father  went  on,  "  love  the  past. 
To  me  it  is  as  a  dream  ;  my  belief  is  in  the  future  instead. 


262  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

My  golden  age  is  yet  to  dawn  !  The  best,  the  very  best  part 
of  my  life,"  he  said,  with  a  happy  face,  "  is  yet  to  come. 
Every  faculty  I  have  has  been  but  a  course  of  education  for 
that.  Think  of  it,  if  you  can,"  he  said,  like  a  boy  who  was 
eager  for  a  holiday ;  "  the  entire  universe  will  be  thrown 
open  to  me,  every  artistic  taste  will  be  gratified.  Oh,  how  I 
have  loved  beauty  !  beauty  of  landscape  ;  and  who  can  con 
ceive  of  the  grandeur,  the  sublimity,  the  varying  and  infinite 
loveliness  when  I  shall  have  free  access  to  the  entire  range 
of  creation  ?  I  have  enjoyed  beauty,  too,  of  person !  My 
young  friend,"  he  said,  looking  at  Henry  with  kindling 
eyes,  "you  imagine  that  you  admire  a  beautiful  woman. 
Admire  ?  you  have  no  idea  how  deeply,  exquisitely,  I  enjoy 
female  beauty  !  "  The  tones  were  such  as  to  thrill  the  hear 
ers.  "Yes,  enjoy  until  the  tears  come,  until  I  turn  away 
from  it,  whether  it  be  in  marble,  on  canvas,  in  flesh,  from 
the  Venus,  the  Madonna,  the  living  loveliness,  with  excess 
of  pleasure  which  is  almost  pain.  Now,  just  think  of  it," 
exclaimed  the  speaker  with  zest,  "  I  shall  exist  in  the  eternal 
youth  and  keenest  freshness  of  my  faculties,  in  a  universe 
peopled  only  by  myriads  of  the  beautiful,  by  angels,  saints, 
glorious  intelligences  !  Yes,  I  shall  enjoy  all 'that  exists  of 
beauty  ;  beauty  of  form,  of  color,  of  character,  and " — the 
eager  tones  subsided  in  awe—"  I  shall  see  the  King  in  his 
beauty!  whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine  eyes  shall 
behold,  and  not  another  ! " 

The  face  of  the  old  artist  was  lifted,  was  luminous.  It 
was  as  if  his  hungry  eyes  were  already  feasting  upon  the 
scenes  and  persons  of  which  he  spoke.  "And  beauty,"  he 
said,  slowly,  "  is  but  the  divine  food  ;  that  which  feeds  and 
is  satiated  upon  beauty  is — love." 

There  followed  silence  for  some  time.  Mary  was  watch 
ing  the  artist  as,  at  last,  he  resumed  his  brush,  but  her 
brother  was  standing  beside  Isidore  as  she  worked.  She  no 
longer  shrank  from  him,  but  she  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
talk.  Her  eyes  would  be  lifted  to  his  when  he  spoke,  but 
they  fell  again  as  she  answered.  He  felt,  none  the  less,  more 


THE  YEARNINGS  OF  NATURE.  263 

at  home  with  her  than  he  had  ever  felt  with  Lady  Blanche. 
It  was  as  if  he  were  enjoying  a  bit  of  sunshine,  a  gentle  breeze, 
a  June  day,  a  strain  of  simple  music,  a  mountain  spring — 
anything  and  everything  that  was  merely  a  part  of  nature. 

"  But  I  have  almost  forgotten  what  I  wanted  to  say,"  he 
said,  finally.  "  How  would  you  like  to  visit  Russia  ?  "  he 
asked  of  Mr.  Atchison. 

"  Russia  ! "  As  the  artist  exclaimed  it,  his  daughter 
looked  up  at  their  visitor,  alarmed  as  well  as  astonished. 

"The  matter  is  this.  You  must,"  Henry  said,  "have 
heard  of  Prince  Kalitzoff,  the  statesman  and  millionaire  of 
St.  Petersburg.  My  father  and  all  our  family  know  him 
very  well.  He  was  interested  in  our  machine-shops,  our 
railroads  across  the  empire.  Events  made  us  well  acquainted, 
for  he  is  a  noble-hearted  man." 

"  What  I  liked  him  chiefly  for,"  Mary  added,  "  was  his 
devotion  to  the  Princess  Aura,  his  only  daughter,  a  lovely 
child.  He  seemed  to  care  for  nothing,  you  remember,  Henry, 
but  that  golden-haired,  motherless  girl." 

"  Yes,  and  the  Princess  Aura  is  dead,  my  father  writes 
me,"  Henry  continued,  "and  the  Prince  has  set  his  heart 
upon  building  a  monument  to  her,  upon  which  he  intends  to 
place  a  full-length  statue  of  her  in  marble.  He  spoke  to  my 
father  to  secure  an  artist  for  him,  and  my  father  has  written 
to  me.  Now,  Mr.  Atchison,"  the  young  man  continued, 
"  I  am  determined  to  send,  honestly,  the  best  sculptor,  the 
very  best,  I  can  find  in  Paris,  for  the  pay  will  be  almost  un 
limited.  If  the  very  best  is  also  an  American,  of  course  I 
would  prefer  it." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  of  some  one,  so  that  I  could  help  you  ;  but 
I  do  not  go  out,  as  you  know,"  Zerah  Atchison  said. 

"Thank  you  ;  the  fact  is  I  want  two  persons.  I  must," 
Henry  continued,  "  have  the  best  sculptor  in  Paris,  and  with 
that  sculptor  must  go  the  best  critic  I  can  find,  so  that,  be 
tween  the  two,  the  work  may  be  perfect.  I  know  of  none 
who  fill  my  purpose  so  well  as  yourself  and  your  daughter. 
My  mother  agrees  with  me,  so  does  Mary." 

12 


264  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

The  old  artist  looked  up  at  the  speaker  with  gratified  as 
tonishment  ;  his  daughter  had  glanced  up,  but  was  working 
again  in  silence. 

"  You  will  have  a  home  in  Prince  Kalitzoff's  palace,  ser 
vants  to  wait  upon  you,  ample  compensation,  your  own  time 
in  which  to  do  the  work,  the  kindest  of  patrons,"  the  visitor 
urged  ;  "  I  am  sure  you  will  like  it." 

"  A  thousand  thanks.  And  I  do  sincerely  believe,"  Mr. 
Atchison  said,  "  that,  between  Isidore  and  myself,  we  could 
satisfy  him.  What  do  you  say,  my  child  ?  " 

But  Isidore  lifted  only  troubled  eyes  from  her  work.  "  I 
do  not  like  to — to  leave  Paris,"  she  said,  and  she  thanked 
their  friend  heartily,  but  was  silent  again.  The  project  did 
not  seem  to  please  her  at  all. 

"  Think  over  it,"  Henry  said  as  he  took  his  hat  to  go  ; 
"and,  by-the-by,  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  am  going  to  St. 
Petersburg  soon,  to  stay  some  time,  and  will  be  glad  to  es 
cort  you.  Think  of  it.  I  will  call  again  ; "  and  brother  and 
sister  took  their  leave. 

A  sudden  and  remarkable  change  had  taken  place  in  Isi 
dore.  "  O  father,  let  us  go  !  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go  !  " 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  LIT. 

M.  POKTOIT,  ANATOMIST. 

IT  was  only  the  afternoon  of  the  day  after  Henry  Har 
ris  had  told  Zerah  Atchison  of  the  monument  for  the  Prin 
cess  Kalitzoff,  that  his  sister  and  himself,  happening  to  pass 
Notre  Dame,  turned  into  it  as  by  a  common  impulse.  It 
was  at  an  hour  when  the  huge  cathedral  was  least  thronged, 
and  there  was  a  refreshment  in  the  dim  religious  seclusion. 
The  brother  and  sister  strayed  here  and  there  with  silent 
steps,  recalling  to  each  other  the  wonderful  events  which  had 
taken  place  beneath  that  lofty  roof. 


M.  PORTOU,  ANATOMIST.  265 

"  To  think,"  Mary  said,  "  of  the  great  orators  who  have 
made  these  walls  reverberate  with  their  eloquence,  the  kings 
and  emperors  who  have  been  crowned  here  !  But  I  shudder 
when  I  remember  how  the  mob  filled  this  very  place  during 
the  Revolution,  roaring  with  their  new  freedom.  Just  to 
think  that  it  was  upon  that  very  altar,  now  blazing  with  can 
dles,  thronged  with  priests,  that  they  placed  a  vile  woman  as 
their  Goddess  of  Reason  !  " 

"  Yes,"  her  brother  said,  "  and  it  was  here,  too,  that  the 
Theophilanthropists  set  up  their  newly  invented  religion  of 
flowery  ceremonies  and  sentimental  eloquence.  They  had 
to  have  some  religion,  and  they  had  abolished  the  old 
faith." 

"  What  vast  crowds  have  jostled  each  other  here  ! "  Mary 
added  ;  "  and  century  after  century  they  have  come  and  gone 
like  ghosts." 

"  Whenever  I  see  a  great  cathedral  like  this,  or  those  at 
Milan,  at  Rheims,  at  Cologne,  especially  when  I  stand  under 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  do  you  know,  Mary,"  her 
brother  said,  "  the  vast  edifice  reminds  me  of  a  fossil  ?  You 
remember  I  described  to  you  the  megatherium  I  saw  in  Si 
beria.  Perhaps  while  Adam  was  still  living  it  had  been 
frozen  into  the  center  of  an  iceberg.  An  extraordinarily 
warm  summer  had  melted  it  out  of  the  primeval  ice,  wolves 
had  stripped  it  of  hide  and  flesh,  and  there  it  lay,  a  colossal 
framework  of  massive  bones,  white  and  bare.  As  I  gazed 
upon  the  wreck  I  said  to  myself,  '  These  bones  were  once  filled 
with  life  ;  this  enormous  creature  once  breathed  and  fed,  once 
filled  the  air  with  the  sound  of  its  voice,  and  drove  all  lesser 
things  before  it  as  it  crashed  its  way  through  antediluvian 
forests'  ;  how,"  Henry  continued,  pointing  to  where  the 
groined  arches  joined  far  overhead,  "  these  great  arches  re 
mind  me  of  its  ribs  !  For  this  church,  too,  was  once  a  living 
thing.  It  made  its  voice  heard,  made  its  power  to  be  felt,  I 
assure  you  !  The  time  has  been  when  the  world  trembled 
beneath  its  tread,  when  Jew  and  Huguenot  were  glad  if 
they  could  hide  themselves,  like  the  meanest  of  things,  from 


266  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  glance  of  its  eyes,  the  weight  of  its  pulverizing  hoof. 
But  now  it  is  dead,  dead  !  " 

"  I  do  not  know  about  that,"  his  sister  said,  looking  at  the 
women  who  were  scattered  about  over  the  church,  kneeling 
in  deep  devotion  at  the  central  and  side  altars.  "  There  is 
life  in  the  Church  of  Rome  yet." 

"  Yes,  but  remember  what  it  was,  and  then  think  of  what 
it  is  !  Spain  was,"  her  brother  said,  "  master  once  of  the 
whole  world.  Except  Great  Britain  and  a  handful  of  Hol 
landers,  who  struggled  almost  hopelessly  against  it,  Spain 
grasped  the  entire  globe  as  a  strong  man  grasps  an  apple  or 
a  dollar,  and  to-day  Spain  is  so  dwindled  away  that,  as  a 
general  thing,  its  existence  is  almost  forgotten  by  men. 
But  even  Spain,  as  it  was  and  as  it  is,  fails  to  be  a  symbol 
of  the  way  in  which  Rome,  once  the  mistress  of  the  world, 
has  shrunken  and  pined  away  into  less  than  the  specter  of 
its  former  self." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  so  good  a  Protestant,"  his 
sister  said. 

"  Yes,  but  you  have  not  heard  me  out,"  Henry  hastened 
to  add.  "  You  know  what  a  mechanical  man  I  am,  and  the 
way  I  look  at  it  is  this  :  Every  man  who  ever  lived  has  a 
craving  to  know  and  to  be  at  peace  with  his  Maker.  Hop 
Fun  quotes  Kong-f  u-tse  to  me,  and  there  is  a  vast  deal  of 
sound  sense  in  what  that  sage  had  to  say.  Socrates,  Zoro 
aster,  Epictetus,  Marcus  Antoninus,  Boodha,  Bramah — not  a 
nation  but  has  had  some  great  teacher,  and  I  believe  that, 
in  a  certain  degree,  each  of  them  was  helped  of  Heaven  to  in 
struct  men.  '  Of  a  truth,'  the  Apostle  Peter  said, '  I  perceive 
that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  but  in  every  nation  he 
that  feareth  him  and  worketh  righteousness  is  accepted  with 
him.'  I  have  sincere  pity  for  a  poor  Thibetan  kneeling 
down  before  his  Grand  Lama,  for  a  Turk  going  through  his 
devotions  in  his  mosque,  almost  for  a  naked  African  begging 
for  something  of  the  bundle  of  sticks  and  feathers  which  he 
calls  his  god.  Provided  the  poor  creature  knows  no  better, 
depend  upon  it,  every  prayer  is  heard  by  God.  So  of  the 


M.  PORTOU,  ANATOMIST.  267 

Roman,  the  Greek,  the  Protestant  Church — there  are  bad 
men  and  hypocrites  in  them  all,  and  there  are  sincere  souls 
in  them  all." 

At  this  moment  a  man  looked  at  them  in  passing,  then 
turned  and  came  back.  Really,  he  had  been  upon  their  track 
all  the  morning,  as  for  days  before,  and  as  he  would  be  for 
days  to  come.  It  was  M.  Portou,  the  anatomist.  The  new 
comer  drew  Henry  to  one  side.  "  I  am  just  going,"  he  said, 
in  a  low  and  reverential  tone,  "  to  a  spectacle  in  a  place  near 
by.  If  the  lady  and  yourself  would  like  to  see  something  of 
our  religion,  you  can  go  with  me  ;  it  is  not  far  away." 

The  brother  consulted  with  his  sister,  made  her  known  to 
the  anatomist,  and  they  walked  away  together.  Although 
they  were  side  by  side,  the  men  were  really  centuries  apart. 
It  was  as  if  they  lived  in  different  planets.  The  American 
could  not  even  perceive  how  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  be 
lieve  in  the  Roman  Church,  supreme,  infallible  ;  and  the 
other  was  almost  unable  to  conceive  how  any  man  in  his 
senses  could  fail  thus  to  believe  !  That  the  Pope  was  the 
viceroy  of  the  Creator  on  earth  was  as  plain  to  him  as  the 
midday  sun.  Having  such  belief,  he  was  confident,  also,  that 
this  young  American  millionaire  would,  sooner  or  later,  be 
converted.  With  all  sincerity,  he  had  given  days  of  fasting 
and  prayer  to  that  very  object,  and  he  now  prayed  silently, 
but  fervently,  for  this  as  they  walked. 

"M.  Portou,  I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  you,  as 
you  know,"  the  American  said.  "  I  have  conversed  with  my 
mother  and  sister  in  regard  to  you.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
you  are  the  first  Jesuit  I  have  ever  talked  with.  Let  me  say 
this  :  I  believe  that  if  any  other  denomination  had  attained 
to  the  power  of  your  Church,  they  would  have  been,  you 
must  excuse  me,  as  corrupt  and  tyrannical."  The  Jesuit 
was  pacing  along  with  a  peculiarly  soft  and  flowing  gait ; 
he  merely  closed  his  eyes  and  bowed  his  head,  as  if  accus 
tomed  to  blows. 

"  You  see,"  the  American  went  on,  addressing  his  sister, 
"  Pius  IX  has  published  what  he  styles  a  Syllabus,  in  which, 


268  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

with  the  help  of  his  clergy,  he  has  stated  very  tersely  what 
Rome  holds  and  teaches.  Among  other  things  he  says,  for 
instance,  that  the  right  to  educate  children  lies  exclusively 
with  the  Church.  In  regard  to  this,  as  to  all  his  claims,  the 
Pope  says  that  if  any  man  does  not  believe  that  the  Church 
has  the  right  to  use  force,  when  it  can,  for  the  accomplish 
ment  of  this  purpose,  he  is  a  heretic.  It  is  so  odd  to  me  to 
talk  with  a  man  who  really  believes  that,"  the  American  said, 
looking  closely  at  his  companion. 

"  Oh,  no,"  Mary  exclaimed,  "he  can  not  believe  it  all !  I 
was  just  thinking  about  that  terrible  August  day  when  the 
Huguenots  were  massacred  along  these  very  streets.  Seventy 
thousand  perished,  it  is  said.  When  the  news  reached  Rome, 
the  Pope  celebrated  the  slaughter,  you  remember,  by  a  pro 
cession  to  the  Church  of  St.  Louis,  by  a  '  Te  Deum,'  the 
proclamation  of  a  year  of  jubilee,  and  had  a  medal  struck 
representing  the  horrible  carnage.  But  that  was  three  hun 
dred  and  six  years  ago  ;  now  you  do  not  believe  in  anything 
of  that  kind,  I  know,"  she  said,  looking  steadily  at  the  rosy 
and  even  sluggish  and  good-natured  face  of  the  Jesuit  beside 
whom  she  walked.  "  You  wouldn't  kill  me,  would  you  ?  " 
she  asked,  archly. 

"  The  soul  is  more  valuable  than  the  body  ;  the  life  more 
eternal  than  this  transitory  stage.  Whatever  God,  by  the 
mouth  of  his  Church,  commanded  me,  that,"  the  Jesuit  said 
in  steady  accents,  "  I  would  do  !  You  Protestants  only  pre 
tend  to  believe,  but  I  do  believe,"  he  added. 

"  I  am  glad  we  were  not  here  St.  Bartholomew's  Day," 
Mary  said  to  Henry  ;  "but  I  am  yet  more  so  that  he  was 
not,"  for  as  she  said  it  she  left  the  Jesuit,  by  whose  side  she 
had  been  walking,  and  took  her  place  so  as  to  have  her 
brother  between  herself  and  the  fanatic  Frenchman. 

"  We,  as  an  order,  have  been  driven  out  from  every  na 
tion  on  earth,"  their  companion  said,  with  a  sad  smile.  "  Mul 
titudes  even  in  our  own  communion  abhor  us  ;  and  yet, 
why  ?  We  simply  believe  what  they  merely  profess,  and  we 
carry  out,  when  we  can,  what  we  do  believe." 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RELIGION.  269 

"  You  are  logical,  consistent !  Yes,  I  understand,  and,  in 
a  certain  sense,"  the  American  said,  "  I  both  understand  and 
honor  you  for  it.  But  what  is  this  place  ?  " 

They  had  turned  in  through  the  stone  gateway  of  an  old 
inclosure,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  a  prison-like  structure 
several  stories  high.  "  Come  in  and  you  will  see,"  their  guide 
said,  in  an  austere  voice.  Mary  shrank  back,  but  her  brother 
laughed,  and  led  her  in  after  the  Jesuit.  This  last  said  some 
thing  to  a  porter  in  a  clerical  habit  at  the  doorway,  and  the 
three  entered  and  ascended  one  or  two  nights  of  stone  steps, 
went  along  a  dark  corridor,  and  passed  in  by  a  narrow  door 
into  what  appeared  to  be  the  gallery  of  a  chapel. 

"  I  can  not  stay  with  you,"  whispered  the  Jesuit,  "  but  I 
wanted  you  to  see  that  with  us  there  is  such  a  thing  as  be 
lief.  You  may  find  it,  sir,  to  be  as  practical  and  positive  a 
force  as  your  steam  or  iron,"  and  with  subdued  footsteps  he 
stole  away. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

THE   ROMANCE    OF   RELIGION. 

X  Henry  Harris  and  his  sister  had  returned  to  their 
hotel  after  leaving,  in  a  manner  yet  to  be  described,  the 
building  into  which  the  Jesuit  had  introduced  them,  they 
found  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  at  the  tea-table,  in  company  with 
Ellen  Ellsworth  and  Virginia  Jossellyn. 

"  Mary,  my  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  her  mother  ex 
claimed  with  anxiety,  as  soon  as  she  saw  her,  while  Ellen 
added,  "  What  is  it,  Mary  ?  you  look,  as  if  you  had  seen  a 
ghost."  But  it  was  not  until  they  were  all  back  again  in  the 
parlor  that  Mary  would  explain.  Even  then  she  shook  her 
head.  "  Ask  Henry  ;  he  can  tell  you,"  she  said.  Her  brother 
was  standing  beside  the  piano,  and  while  his  mother  sat  near 
by,  looking  at  him,  the  young-lady  visitors  gathered  about 
him,  entreating  him  to  relieve  their  curiosity. 


270  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  I  must  tell  you,  I  will  assure  you, 
first  of  all,  that  what  I  have  to  say  is  perfectly  true.  You 
must  know  that  I  have  become  acquainted  with  a  certain 
Achilles  Deschards,  of  whom  I  have  had  to  tell  my  mother 
and  sister  something.  From  him,  for  he  knows  everything, 
I  learned  what  I  am  to  relate.  But,"  he  said  with  affected 
solemnity,  "  if  I  am  to  tell  my  story,  you  must  sit  down 
before  me.  Moreover,  Miss  Jossellyn  will  please  take  her 
place  at  the  instrument  and  play  a  brilliant  overture.  I  will 
lift  my  hand  at  certain  points  of  my  story  as  I  stand,  and  she 
must  strike  in  with  appropriate  music."  There  were  wonder 
ing  eyes  and  exclamations  and  quite  a  deal  of  conversation 
before  he  could  obtain  obedience  ;  but  they  quieted  down  at 
last,  and  he  made  ready.  "  Now,  attention  !  audience,  or 
chestra  !  "  He  raised  his  hand,  and  the  music  began.  The 
Southern  brunette  was  a  fine  performer  ;  she  played  with 
great  feeling,  as  well  as  force,  an  improvisation  of  her  own, 
and  the  audience  could  not  help  applauding  as  she  ceased. 
The  narrator  stood  before  his  company,  waiting  for  them 
to  become  silent,  as  noble-looking  a  gentleman,  so  at  least 
his  mother  and  sister  thought,  as  one  could  wish  to  see.  If 
the  American  had  done  a  world  of  good  to  his  friend  Lord 
Conyngham,  he  had  unconsciously  received  also  a  benefit 
from  the  Englishman  in  return.  His  manner  was  more 
quiet,  his  voice  better  modulated,  his  whole  bearing  more 
composed  and  refined  than  before.  "  I  will  call  what  I  have 
to  tell  you,"  he  said,  his  eyes  resting  gravely  upon  them, 

"THE  STOKY  or  ADOLF  AND  MICHAL. 
"Once  upon  a  time,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began, 
"  there  lived  in  a  village  of  France,  called  Quimper-Corren- 
tin,  two  families  named  respectively  Portou  and  Axelles. 
They  were  very  plain,  very  poor,  but  hard-working  people. 
The  Portou  family  lived  out  in  the  fields,  and  wrought  hard 
as  tillers  of  the  soil.  They  had  but  one  child,  a  son,  Adolf, 
who  was  employed  as  a  servant  by  the  cure  of  the  village. 
Adolf  was  of  a  dull  and  sluggish  disposition,  but  the  cure 


TEE  ROMANCE  OF  RELIGION.  271 

took  a  fancy  to  him,  educated  him  in  the  common  branches, 
allowed  him  the  use  of  his  library,  which  consisted  only  of 
the  'Lives  of  the  Saints'  and  kindred  books.  It  so  hap 
pened  that  the  cure  was  a  great  lover  of  natural  history. 
At  every  spare  moment  he  would  scour  the  fields  around, 
with  Adolf  at  his  heels,  in  search  of  birds,  moths,  butterflies, 
beetles,  snakes,  and  whatever  he  thought  worth  carrying 
home  he  would  impale  with  pins,  would  stuff,  or  preserve  in 
spirits.  In  this  way  Adolf  Portou  became  as  fond  of  such 
studies  as  his  master,  became  even  more  expert,  since  the 
cure  was  short  and  fat,  in  catching  and  preserving  whatever 
he  could  find  to  add  to  his  collection.  On  Sundays  the  boy 
would  throw  the  proper  vestments  over  his  coarse  clothing, 
and  assist  the  cure  at  Mass  as  an  altar-boy.  And  thus,  as 
the  years  rolled  by,  Adolf  became  at  once  a  naturalist  and  a 
devout  Catholic.  He  remained  a  heavy-featured,  dull-vis- 
aged,  slow-spoken  person,  and  would  have  lived  and  died 
such,  if  it  had  not  been  for  one  thing.  Now,  what  was  that  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  know,"  the  lady  at  the  instrument  remarked  with 
a  laugh  ;  and  so  certain  was  she  that  she  proceeded  to  play 
a  very  lively  air.  "  For  you  refer,"  she  said,  when  she  had 
finished,  "  to  a  young  village  maiden,  of  course." 

"  You  are  right.  In  the  village  of  Quimper-Correntin 
lived  a  girl  some  years  younger  than  Adolf,  an  only  daughter 
in  the  family  of  the  Axelles,  named  Michal.  She  was  a  very 
pretty  girl,  with  eyes  like  black  beads,  teeth  like  pearls,  lips 
like  scarlet ;  above  all,  a  tongue  which  was  as  swift  and 
restless  as  her  eyes,  her  hands,  her  feet.  The  village  girls 
called  her  La  Hirondelle,  she  was  in  such  incessant  motion, 
like  a  swallow." 

The  audience  glanced  at  Ellen  Ellsworth,  to  whom  the 
description  closely  applied,  but  she  shook  her  head  at  them 
threateningly,  and  Henry  proceeded.  "  Michal  was  appar 
ently  a  good  girl,  exceedingly  industrious,  a  remarkably 
neat  housekeeper  ;  her  only  fault  was  that  she  was  given  to 
excessive  fun.  She  laughed  at  Adolf  when  she  saw  him  at 
work  in  the  onion-field.  He  could  not  come  home  past  her 


272  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

house  with  a  netful  of  butterflies,  a  dead  snake  hanging 
over  his  arm,  a  box  of  bugs  strapped  on  his  back,  without 
being  stopped,  examined,  and  teased  unmercifully  upon  his 
game.  Not  even  the  presence  of  the  priest  could  restrain 
her.  She  carried  her  spirit  of  mockery  to  church.  Adolf 
dared  not  look  toward  the  congregation  during  Mass.  It 
made  not  a  particle  of  difference  that  he  had  on  his  robes 
as  an  acolyte,  that  he  held  a  censer  in  his  hand,  that  he  was 
kneeling  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  ;  if  he  forgot  him 
self  and  glanced  at  the  people,  he  was  sure  to  see  Michal. 
She  was  kneeling,  it  is  true,  like  the  rest  ;  but  as  soon  as 
their  eyes  met  she  would  make  a  face  at  him,  and  he  would 
have  to  smother  his  laughter  and  his  indignation  alike  in  a 
pretense  of  coughing.  The  older  they  grew  the  worse  it 
became — the  worse,  for — "  And  lifting  his  hand,  Henry 
whispered  to  the  orchestra,  "  Pathetic  music,  if  you  please." 
"  For,"  he  continued,  as  the  sad  strains  sank  sobbing 
themselves  into  silence,  "  for  the  poor  fellow  was  desperately 
in  love  with  Michal.  The  cure"  remonstrated  with  his  charge. 
*  You  are  falling  into  the  wiles  of  the  devil,'  he  said  to  him 
every  day.  'It  is  a  just  vengeance  upon  her  parents  for 
naming  a  child  after  that  accursed  daughter  of  King  Saul, 
who  mocked  at  David  when  he  was  worshiping  God,'  and 
the  good  priest,  who  was  getting  old  and  short  of  breath, 
waxed  red  in  the  face  as  he  spoke.  *  You  had  agreed  to 
become  both  priest  and  a  naturalist,  and  here  comes  this  imp 
of  darkness — '  '  Michal  is  nothing  of  the  kind,'  Adolf  would 
interrupt  ;  '  she  is  an  angel  of  light  instead,  and  we  love 
each  other.'  '  You  thick-headed  oaf  ! '  the  priest  would  say, 
'  do  I  not  know  ?  That  girl  has  been  a  child  of  evil  from 
her  birth.  She  looked  up  at  me  with  a  smile  of  derision 
when  I  baptized  her  as  a  babe  eighteen  years  ago.  She  will 
not  learn  her  catechism.  Her  rosary  is  worn  only  as  an  or 
nament.  I  do  not  believe  that  she  tells  me  anything  but  lies 
in  the  confessional.  She  withholds  the  truth  and  charges 
herself  there  with  a  thousand  things  she  has  only  dreamed 
of.  When  I  reason  with  her,  she  laughs.  When  I  threaten 


TEE  ROMANCE  OF  RELIGION.  973 

•her,  she  laughs.  She  laughs  when  I  inflict  penance  or  refuse 
absolution.  I  have  seen  her  laugh  in  the  very  face  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  while  on  her  knees  before  her  image,  even 
when  receiving  the  Host.  She  is  possessed  of  the  devil ! 
Fly  from  her,  my  son,  as  you  would  from  Satan  himself.' 

"  But,"  Henry  added,  "  what  good  did  it  all  do  ?  What 
good  does  it  ever  do  ?  The  parents  of  Adolf  died  after 
a  while,  leaving  him  their  little  home  and  a  stockingful  of 
francs  hidden  under  the  thatch.  Michal  had  her  way  ;  such 
women  always  do.  Sorely  against  his  will,  the  cure  married 
them.  Then — "  But,  without  waiting  for  any  signal,  the 
orchestra  struck  up  a  wedding-march.  The  audience  laughed 
and  clapped  their  hands,  applauding  both  Michal  and  Adolf, 
as  well  as  the  music. 

But  Henry  smiled  upon  them  with  pity.  "  You  rejoice 
too  soon,"  he  said,  when  the  music  ceased.  "  For,  hardly 
had  they  been  married  a  year  before  a  certain  Guelf 
Asnieres,  who  was  doing  business  as  a  tobacco-smuggler 
in  Paris,  came  back  to  his  native  village  upon  a  visit. 
As  everybody  well  knew,  Guelf  was  a  thoroughly  unprin 
cipled  scamp,  a  Red  of  the  deepest  dye,  an  atheist,  and 
given  to  drink  and  gambling.  He  was  none  the  less  a 
handsome  fellow.  His  black  mustache,  bright  eyes,  rapid 
tongue,  Parisian  ways,  made  poor  Adolf  seem  in  comparison 
a  stupid  country  lout.  It  is  a  sad  story  ;  but  when  Adolf 
came  home  one  cold  January  day  from  his  hard  work  in 
the  fields — came  home  at  night  with  his  usual  slow  step — 
hungry,  wearied  out,  he  found  his  house  deserted.  The  dog 
met  him  at  the  gate,  whining.  The  fire  was  gone  out  on  the 
hearth  ;  his  wife  had  fled  with  Guelf  to  Paris  !  The  un 
principled  couple  had  robbed  him  also  of  the  last  franc  ; 
had  taken  even  his  Sunday  clothes,  and  an  old  silver  watch 
which  had  come  down  to  him  for  generations.  All  night 
the  poor,  stupid,  trusting  husband  lay  upon  the  ground  of 
his  desolate  home,  weeping,  groaning,  praying.  The  next 
day  he  borrowed  some  money  and  started  to  Paris  in  search 
of  Michal.  Of  course,  he  might  as  sensibly  have  tried  to  find 


274:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

a  coin  lost  in  the  Atlantic  ;  at  least,  the  cur6  told  him  that 
when  he  persisted  in  going,  and  told  him  so  over  again  when 
he  returned  without  her,  or  any  tidings  of  her.  '  She  is  of 
the  devil,  and  always  has  been,'  the  old  man  said  ;  '  she  has 
gone  back  to  her  father,  the  black  Satan,  my  son.  Thank 
God  for  your  deliverance  ! ' 

"  And  thus,"  Henry  continued,  "  matters  seemed  to  slide 
back  into  their  former  grooves.  Adolf  worked  hard  ;  went 
to  church  on  Sundays  and  saints'  days  ;  hunted  for  butter 
flies  and  reptiles  whenever  he  could.  At  the  suggestion  of 
the  cure  he  became  a  lay  brother  of  the  Jesuits.  Gradu 
ally  he  gave  up  the  study  of  animal  life  in  his  devotion  to 
his  order ;  became  first  an  enthusiast,  then  a  fanatic.  One 
day  he  came  to  the  cure  with  the  key  of  his  house.  '  I  am 
going  to  Paris  to  find  Michal,'  he  said.  '  Never  again  can 
she  be  my  wife  ;  I  go  to  save  her  soul ! '  He  was  so  deter 
mined  that  the  cure  saw  in  it  a  divine  call,  and  gave  Adolf 
his  blessing.  But,"  Henry  added,  "  it  is  too  long  and  too 
terrible  a  story  to  tell  young  ladies.  Enough  to  say  that 
the  deserted  husband  found  Michal  at  last.  Guelf  had 
robbed  and  forsaken  her  long  before.  She  had  become  an 
exceedingly  wicked  woman  in  every  sense  ;  her  very  soul 
seemed  poisoned.  She  was  a  socialist,  a  Red,  an  atheist. 
There  was  not  a  more  intelligent,  determined,  desperate 
woman  in  her  way  than  she  was  ;  but  Adolf  gave  himself 
up  to  following  her.  She  allowed  him  to  do  it  out  of  sheer 
contempt.  '  You  want  to  save  my  soul,'  she  would  say  with 
scorn,  '  when  I  have  no  soul,  and  you  persist  in  telling  me 
about  le  bon  Dieu  !  You  might  as  well  jabber  to  me  about 
Odin  or  Thor.  Poor  Adolf,  you  always  were  a  fool  ;  that 
is  why  I  ran  away  from  you.  Convert  me  if  you  can  ;  I  am 
willing.' 

"  It  was  about  this  time,"  Henry  Harris  continued,  "  that 
I  met  Adolf — his  full  name  is  Adolf  Portou — for  the  first 
time.  He  had  opened  a  shop  in  Paris  as  an  articulator  of 
bones  ;  he  had  learned  the  business  under  the  cure  of  Quim- 
per-Correntin  ;  but  his  chief  object  was  to  seek  and  save 


TEE  ROMANCE  OF  RELIGION-.  275 

his  wicked  wife.  She  called  herself  Madame  Mosseline,  and 
was  at  the  head  of  a  club  of  Reds — philosophers,  they  called 
themselves."  And  then  Henry  Harris  told  his  hearers  at 
length  about  his  visit  to  the  club  of  Madame  Mosseline  in 
company  with  Lord  Conyngham,  and  something  of  what 
they  saw  there. 

The  ladies  were  exceedingly  interested.  "  But  how  did 
it  end  ?  "  They  were  eager  to  know  that. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  his  mere  patient  persist 
ence,"  Henry  added,  in  regard  to  M.  Portou,  "  or  not.  The 
abandoned  woman  helped  her  former  husband  to  pass  among 
her  associates  as  one  of  them — he  would  not  have  been  al 
lowed  otherwise — but  she  took  special  pleasure  in  shocking 
and  distressing  him.  She  would  provoke  her  atheist  com 
panions  to  say  their  worst,  would  herself  indulge  in  horrible 
blasphemy  and  all  immorality  as  if  to  defy  the  patient- 
hearted  man.  No,"  Henry  added,  "  I  can  not  tell  you  the 
whole  story,  it  is  too  sad  ;  the  woman  must  have  been  pos 
sessed,  as  the  cure  said,  of  the  very  devil.  She  was,  as  I 
have  said,  as  comely,  bright-eyed,  neatly  dressed,  intelligent 
a  woman  as  you  would  wish  to  see.  She  made  her  worst 
associates  obey  her.  Whether,  after  a  long  time,  it  was  the 
determined  persistence  of  her  former  husband,  or  her  own 
conscience,  or  a  severe  illness  she  had,  I  do  not  know —  But 
I  will  let  Mary  finish  the  story  ;  a  little  solemn  music,  if 
you  please  ;  "  and  he  sat  down. 

"  Well,"  Mary  began,  standing  up  beside  the  performer 
as  the  music  ceased  ;  "this  afternoon  Henry  and  I  happened 
to  be  at  Notre  Dame,  and  there  I  saw  Adolf  Portou.  My 
brother  had  told  me  that  he  was  a  Jesuit,  and  I  was  anxious 
to  hear  him  talk  ; "  and  she  recounted  what  had  passed  be 
tween  them  up  to  the  moment  the  Jesuit  had  parted  with 
them  in  the  building  into  which  he  led  them,  and  which 
proved  to  be  a  convent  of  the  most  austere  of  nuns. 

"  When  we  glanced  about,"  Mary  continued,  "  we  found 
that  we  were  in  a  small  gallery  looking  down  upon  what 
seemed  to  be  a  little  chapel.  It  was  dimly  lighted  from  the 


276  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

altar,  and  filled  with  a  silent  and  kneeling  congregation  of 
veiled  women.  A  low  music  was  trembling  upon  the  air 
from  a  hidden  organ.  We  waited  for  some  time,  but  sud 
denly  every  candle  was  lighted,  the  organ  pealed  into  a 
wedding-march.  Imagine  my  astonishment  when  what  ap 
peared  to  be  a  bridal  procession  came  up  the  aisle  to  the  al 
tar  !  At  least,  there  was  what  seemed  to  be  a  bride,  superbly 
dressed  in  white  satin,  with  a  train,  and  diamonds,  flowers, 
and  a  white  veil  covering  her  from  head  to  foot.  She  knelt 
before  the  priests,  and  a  service  of  some  kind  followed,  with 
responses  and  prayers.  There  was  no  bridegroom,  however, 
and  all  at  once  some  of  the  black-robed  women  began  to  take 
off  her  finery  from  the  bride  while  the  choir  chanted  a  dirge. 
At  last  the  poor  thing  was  left  lying  prostrate  on  the  floor. 
Then  she  was  helped  up,  clad  by  this  time  only  in  black, 
a  white  linen  cloth  about  her  face.  '  Look  at  her,'  Henry 
whispered  to  me.  I  did  so,  and  will  remember  her  corpse- 
like  face  for  ever.  '  Now  look  at  him,'  Henry  said.  It  was 
the  Jesuit,  and  I  had  been  doing  so  all  along,  for  he  was 
dressed  in  vestments,  and  had  been  assisting  the  priests. 
His  face  was  cold  and  stern.  The  priest  said  something  to 
the  Jesuit,  and  he  advanced,  took  the  hand  of  the  woman  in 
his,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and  stepped  back  as  she  sank 
again  upon  the  floor.  Then  some  women  covered  her  with 
a  black  pall  to  the  saddest  music  I  ever  heard  ;  the  lights 
were  lowered.  As  we  stole  quietly  down  stairs  and  into  the 
sunshine  again,  Henry  said  to  me,  '  She  is  a  nun,  and  he  will 
never  see  her  again.  And  he  has  at  last,  at  last !  saved,  as 
he  believes,  her  soul.  For  that  is  Adolf  and  Michal.'  " 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  all  present  as  Mary  ceased 
to  speak,  and,  her  hands  resting  lightly  on  the  keys,  the 
Southern  girl  played  and  sang  softly  a  beautiful  song,  with 
which  all  were  familiar,  the  refrain  of  which  was, 

"  O  love,  love,  victorious  love!  " 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  when  the  music  ended,  "  fa 
natic  as  your  Jesuit  is,  Henry,  in  the  case  of  his  wretched 


THE  INEVITABLE.  277 

wife  his  is  a  fanaticism  of  affection,  also,  which  it  is  impos 
sible  not  to  admire." 

"  His  society  has,"  her  son  replied,  "  for  its  motto,  Ad 
major  am  Dei  gloriam,  that  is,  they  will  do  whatever  they 
think  is  for  the  greater  glory  of  God  ;  perinde  ac  cadaver, 
obedient  as  a  corpse  to  authority.  France  has  always  been 
confronted  by  some  terrible  foe,  the  Bourbon,  the  Robes 
pierre,  the  Napoleon,  of  the  hour.  You  admire  his  spirit, 
and  yet,  to-day  the  Republic  seems  to  be  victorious  ;  but  if  I 
were  a  painter  I  would  depict  her  as  Joan  of  Arc  risen  from 
the  dead,  and  on  the  alert  with  keen  eyes  and  ready  sword 
against  the  twin  specters  which  bar  her  path  and  seek  to 
strike  her  down.  One  of  these  is  the  Jesuit,  and  the  other — " 

"  Is  the  atheist,"  Mrs.  Harris  said  for  her  son,  "  and  God 
alone  knows  which  is  the  worst." 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE     INEVITABLE. 

THE  morning  after  young  Harris  and  his  sister  told  their 
friends  the  story  of  Adolf  and  Michal,  he  came,  as  he  was 
riding  out  toward  Versailles,  upon  his  friend  Lord  Conyng- 
ham,  also  on  horseback.  The  nobleman  was  returning  from 
his  ride,  but  was  not  in  his  usual  spirits.  He  seemed  to  be 
fagged  out,  and  was  riding  with  slackened  rein  and  troubled 
brow  ;  but  his  face  brightened  as  he  recognized  the  Ameri 
can,  and,  after  a  few  words,  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and 
went  with  him. 

"  What  a  beastly  world  it  is  !  "  he  said,  after  a  while.  It 
was  a  beautiful  morning  ;  both  of  the  young  men  had  appar 
ently  all  that  heart  could  wish  to  make  them  happy,  and 
Henry  said,  "  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  but  he  could  readily  imag 
ine  what  occupied  the  mind  of  the  other.  However  Earl 
Dorrington  might  outwardly  consent  to  the  marriage  of  his 


278  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

son  and  heir  to  Mary  Harris,  such  an  alliance,  Henry  knew 
as  well  as  his  companion,  was  dreadfully  against  the  wishes 
of  the  old  Tory.  But  there  were  things  which  no  one  out 
side  of  the  family  could  know,  for,  as  with  the  poorest,  pro 
vided  they  possess  good  sense,  to  say  nothing  of  good  breed 
ing,  household  affairs  were  the  last  topics  upon  which  the 
members  thereof  would  converse  with  strangers.  Now,  as 
Lord  Conyngham  had  told  his  friend,  Lady  Blanche  stood 
his  ally  in  regard  to  Mary  Harris.  She  did  so,  because  she 
had  learned  to  love  the  fair  American  very  sincerely,  but 
chiefly  because  she  was  convinced  that  her  brother's  success 
in  life,  as  well  as  happiness,  was  concerned.  In  all  England 
there  was  hardly  a  young  woman  but  was,  unless  already 
engaged,  at  his  choice.  The  old  Earl  had  often  gone  over 
the  roll,  so  to  speak,  of  possible  wives  for  his  son  ;  had  gone 
carefully  over  it  with  his  daughter,  who  was  his  only  confi 
dential  companion  now  that  her  mother  was  dead.  One  lady 
was  wealthy,  but  too  homely  to  be  thought  of.  Another 
was  beautiful  and  of  excellent  birth,  but  without  sufficient 
dower.  Yet  another  was  beautiful,  rich,  of  high  rank,  but 
too  frivolous  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man  who  aspired  to  hold 
an  influential  position  in  the  affairs  of  England  and  of  na 
tions,  as  also  in  fashionable  circles.  Not  that  Lady  Blanche 
and  her  father  did  not  know  of  many  an  Englishwoman  of 
high  intellect,  but  some  of  these  were  too  old,  too  opinion 
ated. 

"  Or  too  ugly  ;  for,"  Lady  Blanche  reasoned,  "  if  Alfred 
is  to  take  the  stand  we  wish,  he  must  have  a  wife  whom  he 
can  love  and  be  proud  of.  Now,"  she  said  to  the  Earl,  only 
the  day  before  Lord  Conyngham  had  come  upon  his  friend 
the  American  as  he  rode,  "  I  believe  that  for  every  Adam 
God  makes  a  definite  Eve.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  Mary  Harris 
is  the  only  woman  who  combines  all  the  qualities  with  none 
of  the  defects.  You  know  what  Aspasia  was  to  Pericles  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  the  Earl  remarked,  "  what  Lady  Palmerston 
was  to  her  husband  :  the  secret  soul  of  his  political  success, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean." 


THE  INEVITABLE.  279 

"Yes,  sir.  Now,"  said  Lady  Blanche,  bitterly,  "no 
woman  could  make  anything  of  the  Duke  of  Plymouth,  but 
in  this  case  there  is  some  hope.  My  brother's  entire  future 
depends  upon  his  marrying  her,  so  far  as  I  can  see.  If  he 
does  not,  he  will  dawdle  away  his  life  in  billiard-halls  and 
club-rooms,  like  so  many  of  his  class,  disgracing  us,  most 
likely,  by  disreputable  connections,  to  be  married  at  last  to 
some  inferior  woman.  Let  him  follow  his  heart  and  marry 
her,  and  she  will  make  him  a  success  in  spite,  if  necessary, 
of  himself.  I  want  to  see  him  made  a  duke,  and  so  does 
that  beautiful,  sensible,  ambitious  American  girl.  Our  fam 
ily  needs  new  blood,"  and  then  the  poor  girl  thought  of  the 
Duke  to  whom  she  was  betrothed,  and  turned  pale. 

"  Miss  Harris  has  no  ancestry,"  groaned  the  Earl.  "  Her 
father  is  not  even  a  tradesman  ;  he  was  a  common  mechanic 
— an  engineer.  No,  I  can  not  consent !  Whatever  I  may 
have  said,  I  can  not,  can  not  !  Worse,  if  possible,  the  young 
woman  is  an  American.  I  detest  Americans  !  "  the  Earl 
continued  ;  "  they  are  parvenus,  upstarts,  mushrooms.  The 
Spaniard,  the  Russian,  the  French,  or  the  German,  is  bad 
enough,  but  the  American  !  Not  only  is  he  insolent,  aggres 
sive,  boastful,  ostentatious,  without  reverence  for  his  superi 
ors,  but  he  speaks  English,  is  a  sort  of  relative  of  whom  we 
can  not  be  rid,  go  where  we  may." 

"  Is  Mr.  George  Harris  insolent  ?  Is  his  son  an  up 
start  in  bearing  ?  Is  Mary  Harris  boastful,  or  her  mother, 
and—" 

"  Assuredly  not,"  her  father  interrupted  her  ;  for  he  was 
truthful  and  a  gentleman  to  the  core.  "  It  is  of  the  Yankee 
in  general  that  I  speak.  Why  Heaven  allowed  their  republic 
to  stand  I  can  not  see.  With  all  the  nobility,  I  counted  con 
fidently  upon  the  success  of  Jefferson  Davis.  When  Louis 
Napoleon  urged  England  to  recognize  and  help  him,  we 
ought  to  have  done  so,  as  I  said  at  the  time.  No,  I  grant 
you  that  Miss  Harris  is  amiable,  estimable  ;  but,  Blanche, 
you  and  your  brother  must  wait  until  I  die  !  The  traditions, 
the  prejudices,  the  life-long  habits,  in  me  of  too  many  gen- 


280  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

erations,  are  against  it.  I  can  not  consent.  You  must  wait. 
The  sacrifice  is  too  great  !  " 

"  Is  it  as  great,  sir,"  his  daughter  demanded,  "  as  mine  in 
consenting  to  become  the  Duchess  of  Plymouth  ?  "  But  as 
she  spoke  she  observed  for  the  first  time  a  peculiar  ashen 
something  in  the  face  of  the  Earl,  generally  so  ruddy  ;  his 
lips  were  white,  his  eyes  dim,  his  hand  trembled,  and,  with 
terror  for  what  might  befall,  she  ceased  to  contend,  and 
kissed  him  instead.  But  her  face  was  cold  and  hard  even  as 
she  did  so. 

"  You  must  wait,"  she  said  to  her  brother,  bitterly,  "  if 
you  would  not  kill  him.  I  do  my  part  as  a  daughter  when 
the  Duke  is  in  question." 

It  was  of  this  that  Lord  Conyngham  had  been  thinking 
as  he  rode  beside  his  friend  ;  but  all  that  he  said  was,  "  Have 
you  heard  from  your  father  yet  in  regard  to  my  suit  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  the  American  replied,  "  and  it  is  only 
what  I  have  already  had  the  honor  to  tell  you  myself.  Apart 
from  your  rank,  there  is  no  man  we  would  like  better  for  my 
sister.  To  us  your  rank  is  a  much  more  serious  objection 
than  if  you  were  very  poor,  or  without  a  profession.  But, 
in  any  case,  it  is  impossible  for  my  father  or  myself  to  give 
any  reply  to  your  suit  until  we  are  approached  upon  the 
subject  by  your  father  the  Earl."  It  was  said  gravely. 

Lord  Conyngham  uttered  something  very  like  an  oath, 
gave  his  horse  a  cut,  then  reined  him  in.  "  You  do  not 
know  the  Earl  !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  No,  but  we  do  know  ourselves,"  the  other  replied. 
"  We  like  you  sincerely,  my  lord,  and  we  are  profoundly 
concerned  in  the  happiness  of  Mary  ;  but,  whatever  befalls, 
we  can  do  nothing  which  even  seems  to  place  us  on  a  lower 
level  than  that  which  your  father  occupies.  When  the  Earl 
asks  the  hand  of  Mary  of  her  parents  he  shall  have  his  an 
swer."  It  was  said  very  quietly.  The  American  had  seen 
too  much  of  English  insolence  not  to  assert  himself  when  it 
was  necessary  ;  moreover,  he  had  been  hurt  to  the  soul  by 
the  course  of  Lady  Blanche. 


THE  INEVITABLE.  281 

"As  things  go,"  he  had  argued  with  himself,  "the  Duke 
is  a  splendid  match,  as  it  is  called,  for  her.  Nothing  more 
natural  than  that  she  should  yield  to  the  temptation,  espe 
cially  when  the  urgency  of  her  father  and  of  every  relative 
and  friend  she  has  is  to  the  same  end.  And  yet  the  Duke  is 
a  worn-out  roue,  and  she  knows  it.  Making  all  allowance 
for  her  education,  how  a  true  woman — a  pure  and  noble  wo 
man — can  sacrifice  herself  to  such  a  Moloch  I  can  not  under 
stand.  She  need  not  marry  me,  but  to  marry  him  !  "  He 
had  almost  forgotten  who  rode  by  him  as  he  said  to  himself 
in  addition,  as  he  had  often  done  before  :  "  I  am  an  engineer, 
and  have  lived  too  much  among  machinery  to  permit  myself 
to  be  crushed  by  the  wheels.  At  best,  Lady  Blanche,  beau 
tiful  as  she  is,  is  but  a  glittering  part  of  the  social  mill. 
You  are  very  lovely,  my  lady,  but  I  do  not  propose  to  perish 
at  your  feet  !  " 

Which  shows  how  little  we  know  our  own  hearts.  Mrs. 
Harris  and  Mary  had  spoken  of  it  to  each  other  ;  for,  of  all 
persons,  Henry  was  the  one  of  whom  they  thought  and  con 
versed  most.  "  Even  if  there  were  no  other  objections,"  the 
mother  had  said  to  her  daughter,  "  it  would  never  do.  Henry 
and  Lady  Blanche  are  too  much  alike  to  be  happy  together. 
If  she  is  proud,  he  is  as  much,  if  not  more  so.  In  an  un 
happy  moment  an  unguarded  word  would  surely  be  spoken 
by  her,  by  him,  it  matters  not  which.  It  would  need  but 
one  word.  Like  a  spark  to  a  train,  it  could  not  be  recalled, 
and  there  would  follow  misery  unspeakable." 

"  There  would  be  no  fear  of  that  between — between — " 
But  Mary  could  not  complete  her  thought. 

"  Between  your  lover  and  yourself  ?  No,"  her  mother 
said,  with  a  smile.  "  I  have  no  fear  that  you  would  quarrel ; 
but  your  father,  your  brother,  and  myself  are  agreed,  and 
you  will  agree  with  us,  until  the  Earl  asks  your  hand,  we 
can  do  nothing." 

And  Mary,  hesitating  a  little,  had  said,  "  Don't  you  think, 
mamma,  that  a  new  influence  is  helping  Henry  to  endure  his 
disappointment  ?  " 


282  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

The  fact  is,  as  he  and  his  English  friend  rode  together  in 
silence,  he  had  ceased  to  think  of  Lady  Blanche.  The  time 
had  been  when  she  was  almost  his  only  thought,  although 
she  had  never  come  into  his  very  practical  mind  except  as  in 
a  sort  of  halo  of  impossible  possession.  When  he  thought 
of  her  now,  his  mind  glanced  away  to  Isidore  Atchison. 
From,  in  fact,  the  outset  of  his  acquaintance  with  her  he  had 
fallen  into  the  habit  of  comparing  Lady  Blanche  with  the 
artist.  At  first,  the  Englishwoman  entered  his  mind  ac 
companied  by  the  young  girl,  as  a  stately  lady  is  attended  by 
a  maid  of  honor,  who  lingers  behind  and  smiles  and  blushes 
in  the  shadow  of  her  mistress.  Then  the  two  presented 
themselves  to  his  thought  side  by  side,  in  strong  contrast. 
Lady  Blanche  was  the  statelier,  the  more  striking,  but  the 
shy  yet  joyous  Isidore  was  more  homelike,  easier  of  access, 
appealing  to  him  as  a  younger  sister  might  have  done.  Lady 
Blanche  was  cold  in  comparison  to  the  childlike  cordiality  of 
the  other  ;  was  almost  artificial  in  contrast,  so  purely  native 
and  natural  was  the  daughter  of  the  old  artist. 

It  was  a  silent  ride  the  two  friends  had  of  it.  "  We 
have  got  into  a  dead-lock,"  the  nobleman  was  the  first  to  ob 
serve. 

"  So  it  seems,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

"  I  say,  Harris,"  Lord  Conyngham  demanded,  "  I  thought 
that  in  your  country  the  young  people  fall  in  love  and  marry 
without  all  this  accursed  red  tape.  Isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"  It  used  to  be  so,  my  lord,  but,"  the  other  replied,  "  our 
young  men,  at  least,  are  growing  more  sensible  ;  even  they 
are  ceasing  to  yield  to  mere  passion.  Now  a  man  allows 
himself  to  fall  in  love  only  when  he  can  see  his  way  clear 
to  an  income  which  will  support  a  family.  In  this  case  we 
are  dealing  with  something  vastly  more  important  than  in 
come  ;  we  have  to  do  with  Earl  Dorrington." 

"  Do  you  know,"  Lord  Conyngham  said,  "  we  did  our 
best  to  persuade  your  sister  to  run  away  ?  I  believe  it 
was  Blanche  who  suggested  it ;  in  any  case,  she  went  into 
the  idea  with  all  her  heart.  We  made  every  arrangement ; 


THE  INEVITABLE.  283 

Blanche  was  to  go  with  us,  a  clergyman  was  in  waiting, 
everything  was  so  neatly  planned,  but  your  sister  would  not 
hear  of  it !  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  the  other  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  You 
did  not  know  her,  or  you  would  not  have  proposed  it,  my 
lord.  When  will  you  understand  us  ?  "  the  American  said, 
with  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Try  and  understand  !  We  are 
plain,  practical,  matter-of-fact  people.  We  never  act  except 
as  in  broad  day.  We  ask  favors  of  no  one  ;  fear  no  one  ; 
consider  ourselves  inferior  to  none." 

"  Noblesse  oblige,  hey  ?  and,"  the  Englishman  exclaimed, 
"  there  are  millions  of  you  in  that  remarkable  America  of 
yours  !  Forty  million  democratic  dukes  and  duchesses  of  you  ! 
No,  it  is  of  no  use  ;  I  can  not  understand  you  Americans  !  " 

"  They  say  that  the  census  of  1880  will  make  us  fifty 
millions,  my  lord,  but,"  the  other  added,  gravely,  "  we  have 
no  such  inferior  order  of  nobility  as  dukes  among  us  ;  every 
man  is  a  king,  every  woman  is  a  queen,  I  assure  you.  They 
had  a  vague  idea  of  this  even  here  when  they  dubbed  poor 
old  Louis  Philippe  King  of  the  French  —  not  of  France. 
With  us,  America  is  more  than  a  nation  composed  of  nations  ; 
it  is  a  sovereignty  composed  of  sovereigns.  Now — " 

"  Mr.  Henry  Harris,"  Lord  Conyngham  broke  in,  "  Amer 
ica,  with  every  State  and  Territory  in  it,  Canada  thrown  in, 
may  be  con — to  put  it  in  the  mildest  way — founded!  as  also 
may  England,  all  Europe  !  What  I  care  for  is  your  sister. 
Meanwhile,  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say  :  suppose  we  go  to 
Russia.  We  have  long  proposed  to  do  so.  I  must  either 
do  that  or  take  to  absinthe  and  baccarat.  Something  may 
turn  up  while  we  are  gone.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

A  long  conversation  followed  upon  this. 

That  night,  just  before  "going  to  bed,  Henry  suddenly 
said  to  his  mother,  "  By  the  by,  you  have  not  given  either 
to  Mary  or  myself  the  present  you  promised  for  finding  your 
favorite  works  of  art." 

"  That  is  a  fact,"  echoed  his  sister  ;  "  what  are  our  presents 
to  be,  and  when  are  they  to  be  ?  " 


284:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  My  children,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  not 
forgotten  what  I  promised.  You  shall  each  of  you  have  your 
gift,  and,"  the  wise  lady  added,  with  a  loving  smile,  "  I  will 
guarantee  that  each  of  you  will  be  more  than  satisfied  when 
I  give  it."  There  was  so  much  of  meaning  in  the  words 
that  the  young  people  looked  at  her  with  sudden  surprise  ; 
but  Mr.  George  Harris,  who  had  lately  returned  from  Rus 
sia,  laughed  outright,  a  thing  he  rarely  did. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

ART     AND     HEART. 

THE  matter  of  Achilles  Deschards  had  rested  upon  the 
mind,  and  upon  the  heart,  too,  of  Henry  Harris,  as  a  heavy 
burden.  After  long  and  thorough  investigation  he  had  come 
to  know  that  the  versatile  and  venal  Bohemian  was  beyond 
doubt  the  son  of  Zerah  Atchison  and  the  Delira  of  the  ar 
tist's  youth.  And  yet  so  far  he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
reveal  to  those  most  concerned  the  secret  in  which  they,  of 
all,  were  most  interested.  After  considering  the  matter  with 
his  mother,  he  determined  to  bring  the  affair  to  a  crisis,  for, 
if  Mr.  Atchison  and  Isidore  were  to  go  with  him  to  Russia, 
some  final  decision  must  be  reached. 

In  accordance  with  the  suggestions  of  Mrs.  Harris,  her 
son  contrived  to  bring  Achilles  Deschards  to  the  studio  one 
afternoon  when  she  was  present.  Deeply  interested  in  the 
man,  Henry  had  associated  himself  with  him  so  long  and 
so  closely  that  they  were  as  intimate  as  persons  of  charac 
ter  so  diverse  could  be,  and  the  American  had  little  diffi 
culty  in  inducing  the  other  to  go  with  him.  Of  a  disposition 
as  intense  as  it  was  restless,  the  Bohemian  was  ever  on  the 
alert  for  a  new  sensation,  and  he  glanced  swiftly  about  him 
when  he  came  into  the  room. 

"  Is  there  anything  in  mere  relationship  ? "  Mrs.  Harris 


ART  AND  HEART.  285 

had  been  asking  herself,  "  which  will  compel  this  father  to 
recognize  a  son  whom  he  has  never  seen  ?  Can  this  son  know 
a  father  of  whom  he  has  not  even  heard  ? "  For,  as  she 
knew,  Achilles  Deschards  had  never  been  told  that  the  man 
who  had  stolen  his  mother  from  Zerah  Atchison  was  not  his 
father.  He  was,  in  fact,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  early  events 
in  the  life  of  his  mother.  So  far  as  he  was  aware,  she  had 
herself  been  born  in  France,  and  had  never  been  outside  of 
it.  It  was  natural  that  Mrs.  Harris  should  await  the  result 
with  almost  painful  interest. 

When  the  aged  artist  looked  up  from  the  picture  of 
Delira — for  he  could  not  tear  himself  away  from  perpetually 
touching  and  retouching  it — he  returned  in  his  usual  quiet 
way  the  salutations  of  the  gentlemen.  As  had  become  the 
habit  of  his  life,  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon  the  stranger  who 
accompanied  Henry  Harris  with  sharp,  penetrating  gaze. 
A  lapidary  looks  in  that  way  at  the  stones  which  come  un 
der  his  observation,  however  cursorily,  and  can  tell  in  the 
first  glance  the  diamond  from  the  imitation.  So  of  a  banker  : 
when  notes  or  coin  pass  within  the  sweep  of  his  eyes,  whether 
he  has  anything  to  do  with  them  or  not,  and  from  sheer  force 
of  dealing  with  such  things,  an  instinctive  estimate  is  made, 
Good  or  counterfeit  ?  If  good,  what  is  the  amount  ?  Where, 
in  such  case,  there  is  any  doubt,  one  touch  with  the  adroit 
finger,  and  the  man  of  money  says  to  himself,  almost  with 
his  eyes  shut :  "  This  note  is  good,  is  bad  ;  this  gold  is  al 
loyed  ;  this  silver  is  pure,"  as  the  fact  may  be.  Now,  to  the 
artist,  men  and  women  were  as  the  jewels,  the  money,  with 
which  he  had  to  do.  He  might  have  taken  the  worst  wine 
for  the  best,  the  clumsiest  paste  for  the  true  diamond,  the 
poorest  counterfeit  for  the  good  money,  but  it  was  very  dif 
ferent  where  a  man  was  concerned  or  a  woman  ;  then  his 
unerring  decision  struck  through  the  mere  outer  appearance 
to  the  very  soul,  which  is  at  last  the  real  person. 

Even  in  the  act  of  introduction,  the  old  critic  was  say 
ing  to  himself  of  Deschards  :  "  By  what  accident  is  it  that 
this  friend  of  mine  is  associated  with  such  as  you?  He 


286  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

is  thoroughly  true,  genuine,  reliable,  while  your  inmost  na 
ture  is  adulterated,  perverted.  And  yet  what  noble  eyes  ! 
what  an  intellectual  brow  !  Surely  some  cruel  circumstance 
has  seized  upon  and  twisted  this  soul  awry  even  from  in 
fancy  ! " 

Both  Mrs.  Harris  and  her  son  were  watching  the  artist 
closely.  "  Yes,  he  is  struck  with  him,  interested  in  him  !  " 
they  were  saying  to  themselves.  "  Surely  blood  will  tell ;  at 
least  a  father  must  recognize  his  own  child  ! " 

Alas  !  the  only  interest  of  the  artist  was  in  Deschards 
as  probably  the  best  Mephistopheles  he  had  as  yet  encoun 
tered.  Mrs.  Harris  and  her  son  glanced  at  Isidore.  She  had 
acknowledged  the  salutations  of  the  gentlemen  with  her 
wonted  modest  grace,  but  it  was  evidently  plain  that  the 
stranger  was  more  interested  in  her  than  she  was  in  him. 
Had  she  put  her  rapid  ideas  into  words,  they  would  have 
been  :  "  And  here  is  the  man  I  saw  with  his  old  mother  that 
day.  Yes,  he  evidently  is  what  Mr.  Harris  described  him  to 
be,  talented  but  unprincipled.  Poor  fellow !  Absinthe  ! 
Intellect  !  No  conscience  !  Atheist — and  yet,"  and  she 
looked  at  him  again,  "  he  loves  his  old  mother  ! " 

Meanwhile,  Henry  Harris  introduced  him  also  to  Mrs. 
Harris,  and  the  conversation  became  general,  even  animated. 
The  sincerest  thoughts  of  every  one  there  were  not  always 
uttered,  yet  much  was  talked  about.  Achilles  Deschards 
moved  around  the  apartment,  looking  rapidly  at  the  pic 
tures,  the  carvings,  full  of  compliment,  placing  himself  near 
Isidore,  engaging  her  in  lively  talk,  while  a  feeling  of  almost 
profound  disappointment  fell  upon  the  mother  and  son. 

But  their  expectation  revived  as  the  stranger  stood  at 
last  beside  the  picture  of  his  own  mother.  He  seemed  to  be 
exceedingly  struck  by  it,  declared  it  to  be  a  masterpiece,  and 
was  extravagant  in  his  praises. 

"  Do  JQ\\  know,  sir,"  he  remarked  at  length  to  the  artist, 
after  gazing  upon  it  steadily,  "  that  your  portrait  is  exceed 
ingly  like  what  I  can  imagine  my  mother  must  have  been 
when  young  ?  And  the  likeness  grows  upon  me  ! " 


ART  AND  HEART.  287 

Mrs.  Harris  glanced  at  her  son  with  eager  eyes  ;  her 
heart  rose  to  her  lips  ;  she  was  witnessing  one  of  the  sub 
tlest,  profoundest  workings  of  nature.  Surely  the  father 
would  recognize  the  son  ! 

"  Look  at  it  in  this  light,  if  you  please."  As  Henry  Har 
ris  said  it,  he  contrived  to  place  Deschards  beside  the  wonder 
ful  painting,  so  that  the  artist  and  Isidore,  too,  could  not 
help  contrasting  the  son  with  the  almost  living  effigy  of  his 
mother.  The  likeness  was  so  startling  that  Mrs.  Harris  could 
scarcely  restrain  herself.  "  They  must  be  blind,  must  be 
absolutely  stupid,  not  to  see  it ! "  she  said  almost  aloud. 

But  they  did  not,  and,  after  more  conversation,  in  which 
the  visitor  praised  the  painting,  as  well  as  the  carvings,  in 
the  warmest  terms,  he  begged  permission  to  call  again  and 
took  his  departure. 

"  I  am  free  to  say,"  Mrs.  Harris  remarked  to  her  son 
when  they  were  together  in  their  hotel  that  night,  "  that  I 
have  rarely  been  more  mistaken,  more  disappointed.  It 
seemed  impossible  that  there  should  be  no  recognition. 
What  a  pity  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  pity  !  "  was  the  reply. 

But,  strange  to  say,  her  son  was  thinking  of  Lady 
Blanche  instead.  "That  I  should  not  have  known  her  /"  he 
was  complaining  to  himself.  "  That  she  should  not  have 
known  me  !  and  when  we  knew  almost  everything  concern 
ing  each  other,  were  thrown,  and  for  so  long,  into  such  close 
relation  to  each  other  !  We  even  supposed  that  we  loved 
each  other  !  And  yet  I  knew  as  little  about  her  real  self  as 
if  she  were  Queen  Elizabeth  instead.  And  she  never  saw  me 
in  her  life,  never  will  know  me  as  I  am  !  "  But,  ah  !  the  dull, 
deep  pain  of  it  all !  Yet  his  pain  was  as  nothing  to  what 
Lady  Blanche  endured.  She  did  know,  did  appreciate  him. 
And  with  her  the  alternative  was — the  Duke  of  Plymouth. 
While,  irresistibly  breaking  through  his  sorrow  like  spring 
through  the  chill  of  winter,  as  slowly  and  imperceptibly  too, 
the  daughter  of  the  artist  was  changing  his  loss  into  un 
speakable  gain.  But,  if  he  was  conscious  of  it  at  all,  it  was 
13 


288  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

only  as  is  the  oak  which  feels,  not  understanding  it,  the 
blind  motions  within  itself  of  approaching  summer. 

"  I  am  coming  to  understand  it,"  the  mother  said  to  her 
son  a  few  days  afterward. 

"  To  understand  what  ?  "  he  asked,  coloring  almost  guilt 
ily  under  her  calm  eyes.  He  was  thinking  of  Lady  Blanche. 

"  To  understand  why  there  was  no  recognition  between 
the  father  and  the  son.  It  is  because  there  was  no  relation 
ship,  at  last,  of  soul  between  them.  The  son  is  a  thoroughly 
bad  man,  and  has,"  Mrs.  Harris  continued,  "  for  everybody 
except  his  mother  a  bitter  indifference,  if  not  contempt. 
The  father  and  the  daughter  have  no  love  except  for  the 
character,  the  inmost  heart  and  soul,  of  any  whom  they  meet. 
When  the  whole  person  is  as  utterly  perverted  as  in  the  case 
of  Deschards,  I  doubt  if  in  the  other  world  even,  and  through 
eternity,  recognition,  much  less  relationship,  will  continue. 
No,  Henry,  I  would  not  say  anything  to  them  of  the  matter, 
at  least  not  yet.  Wait.  Recognition  in  this  case  would 
only  bring  misery  to  the  father  and  to  Isidore.  As  to  the 
son,  his  character  is  fixed  ;  even  they  could  not  change  him." 

"  And  it  is  circumstance  which  has  made  him  what  he  is  ; 
is  it  his  fault  ?  " 

"  Yes,  circumstance,  and  the  most  powerful  circumstance 
of  all  is  the  overpowering  influence  in  him,"  Mrs.  Harris  re 
plied,  "  of  the  peculiar  character  of  Delira,  his  mother.  But 
that,  my  son,  is  one  of  the  terrible  mysteries  which  can  be 
solved  only  when  we  come,  in  a  world  wherein  is  no  night, 
to  know  even  as  also  we  are  known.  The  one  thing  we  do 
know  now  is  that  Heaven  makes  accurate  allowance  for 
everything.  No  one  is  punished  except  for  his  own  delib 
erate  wrong-doing  against  sufficient  light." 


ST.  PETERSBURG.  289 

CHAPTER  LVL 

ST.    PETERSBURG. 

"  I  AM  glad  I  came  with  you  !  " 

It  was  Lord  Conyngham  who  said  it  to  his  American 
friend.  They  were  standing  together  upon  the  highest  of 
the  gilded  galleries  which  ornament  the  lofty  spires  of  the 
Admiralty  edifice  in  St.  Petersburg.  The  air  was  bright 
and  bracing,  and  the  young  men  were  full  of  the  ardor  and 
energy  which  flushes  the  very  soul  also  of  those  who  are  em 
barked  upon  a  noble  but  hazardous  enterprise.  The  capital 
of  Russia  lay  at  their  feet  like  a  vast  picture.  "  Yes,  and 
so  am  I,"  Henry  Hams  said,  more  calmly.  "  I  was  weary 
of  Paris  and  of  the  Exposition.  When  I  have  been  shut  up 
too  long  in  what  is  styled  the  best  society,  I  become  like  a 
bad  boy  imprisoned  in  a  dark  closet ;  I  batter  at  the  door 
with  fist  and  foot  until  I  am  let  out,  otherwise  I  break  it 
down.  You  have  been  in  St.  Petersburg  before,  my  lord, 
but  it  is  a  noble  sight,  is  it  not  ?  When  Peter  the  Great 
stood  here  in  1703  upon  the  bank  of  the  Neva,  it  was  almost 
as  when  the  Creator  took  chaos  in  hand  at  creation.  You 
see  those  islands  which  make  up  the  Delta  ;  well,  this  region 
was  then  one  vast  malarious  marsh.  I  like  a  strong  man  ! 
Peter  said  :  '  Let  St.  Petersburg  exist  ! '  and  here  it  is  !  " 

"Yes,  here  it  is,"  his  companion  added,  "a  city  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  bridges,  three  hundred  churches,  seven 
hundred  thousand  people,  covering  an  area  of  over  forty 
square  miles.  I  have  been  informing  myself,  you  see.  Five 
hundred  streets,  think  of  it !  and  not  a  lane  or  alley  in  the 
city.  Yonder  runs  the  Nevskoi  Prospekt,  one  hundred  and 
thirty  feet  broad,  four  miles  long,  the  finest  street  in  Chris 
tendom,  they  say." 

"I  like  Russia,"  the  American  responded.  "See  those 
long  lines  of  houses,  like  soldiers  in  gray  uniform.  They  form 
themselves  in  those  sixty-four  hollow  squares  you  see  to  the 
north  and  the  south,  or'deploy  like  skirmishers  over  Aptekar- 


290  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

skoi,  Kammanoi,  and  the  other  islands  yonder.  Russia  is 
young.  Like  America,  it  is  rough  and  very  strong."  What 
the  speaker  did  not  add  aloud  was,  "  And  Russia  and  Amer 
ica  are  the  twin  masters  of  the  future." 

"  Do  you  know,"  his  companion  added,  "  that  the  Emperor 
can  put  forty  thousand  troops  through  their  evolutions  in  the 
Field  of  Mars  yonder  ?  The  Winter  Palace  over  there  is  ac 
knowledged  to  be  the  most  magnificent  on  earth  ;  yonder  is 
the  University  with  its  five  hundred  students,  and  I  can  see 
the  roof  of  the  Imperial  Library,  which  has  over  eleven  hun 
dred  thousand  volumes.  There  is  something  outside  of  Eng 
land,  I  must  confess  !  " 

"  Ther,e  are  two  thousand  pictures  and  more  than  a  hun 
dred  thousand  books  in  the  Hermitage  Palace  across  the 
Neva,"  his  friend  said,  as  they  turned  at  last  to  go.  "I 
have  lived  in  Russia,"  he  added,  as  they  came  slowly  down, 
"since  I  was  a  boy,  and  how  can  an  American  help  lik 
ing  it  ?  It  has  a  territory  of  eight  million  square  miles  ; 
think  of  that !  More  than  double  the  size  of  all  Europe,  with 
nearly  one  hundred  million  people.  When  my  father  first 
came  to  Russia,  in  the  days  of  Nicholas,  it  was  as  when  the 
first  railway  engineers  crossed  the  Mississippi  going  west, 
only  in  this  case  a  vaster  continent  was  before  him.  When 
the  great  line  was  to  be  thrown  across  the. empire,  every  town 
within  five  hundred  miles  on  either  side  wanted  the  road  to 
run  by  it.  Of  course,  to  accomplish  their  ends,  they  did  not 
fail  to  bribe  the  nobleman  in  charge.  My  father  was  present 
when  they  presented  their  zigzag  route  for  the  approval  of 
the  Emperor,  and  he  told  me  that  he  never  enjoyed  anything 
more  than  when  he  saw  the  Emperor  spread  the  map  upon 
a  table,  place  an  iron  ruler  with  an  end  at  each  terminus, 
and  then,  with  a  red  pencil,  which  he  took  from  my  fa 
ther's  hand,  draw  a  line,  straight  as  an  arrow,  from  point  to 
point.  '  The  road  will  be  built  along  that ! '  he  said,  and 
left  the  room.  And  it  was.  My  father  preserves  the  impe 
rial  pencil  still.  When  Nicholas  died,  less  than  three  thou 
sand  miles  of  rail  had  been  laid." 


ST.  PETERSBURG.  291 

"  I  see  that  you  are  in  haste  to  return  to  Prince  Kalit- 
zoff's,"  Lord  Conyngham  said,  with  a  smile,  as  the  two  men 
stood  at  length  in  the  great  square  of  the  Admiralty.  "  Do 
not  forget  that  we  are  to  visit  the  Annitchkoff  Palace.  I 
am  by  no  means  as  deeply  interested  in  St.  Petersburg  as 
you  are.  Good-by  ;  you  know  my  hotel." 

There  was  that  in  the  manner  of  the  Englishman  which 
caused  the  American  to  color  a  little  as  he  bade  him  good 
day,  and  walked  in  an  opposite  direction.  Two  weeks  be 
fore  they  had  left  Paris.  But  not  alone.  Zerah  Atchison 
could  see  no  object  which  justified  him  in  refusing  the  offer 
of  Prince  Kalitzoff  and  remaining  in  Paris.  It  is  true,  he 
had  heard  nothing  as  yet  of  his  lost  son,  but  he  had  long 
ago  learned  to  wait.  He  had  been  brought  from  Virginia  to 
Paris  by  no  planning  of  his  own.  Now  that  the  way,  with 
out  any  thought  of  his,  had  been  opened  for  his  daughter  to 
go  to  the  Russian  capital,  "  I  go  there,"  he  had  said,  "  be 
cause  that  is  the  one  thing  to  do.  And  I  am  glad  you  agree 
\vith  me,  Isidore." 

"  You  dear  father  !  "  she  replied,  "  you  and  I  are  like  a 
pair  of  pigeons,  except  that  we  have  no  home  of  our  own 
anywhere  in  all  the  world.  Here  we  are,  high  up  in  the  sky, 
with  the  wide,  wide  earth  lying  below  us,  nothing  about 
us  but  the  sunshine,  and  the  winds,  and  the  immeasurable 
heavens  !  The  least  thing  can  turn  us  one  way  or  the  other. 
We  curve  about  as  easily  as  birds  on  the  wing.  Yes,  I  am 
willing  to  go  to  China,  if  you  say  so.  If  the  man  in  the 
moon  were  to  ask  me  to  visit  him  a  while,  provided  you  went 
with  me,  I  would  say  '  Yes.'  When  you  die,  father  dear,  all 
I  beg  is  that  you  will  let  me  go  with  you.  I  am  ready  for 
anything." 

Her  father  looked  at  her  with  loving  eyes.  Until  within 
a  few  weeks  he  had  been  as  the  child  and  she  as  the  parent. 
Of  late  Isidore  had  become  a  child  once  more.  The  respon 
sibilities  of  a  father  were  pressing  upon  him  as  never  before. 
A  singular  change  had  come  over  his  daughter.  Not  that 
she  was  not  as  thoughtful  of  him  as  before  ;  or  that  she 


292  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

did  not  seem  outwardly  as  brave  and  hopeful  as  ever.  In 
fact,  she  talked  and  laughed  and  sang  and  worked  more 
eagerly  than  before  ;  but  the  old  artist  had  too  sensitive 
an  insight  not  to  know  that  her  outer  gladness  was  put  en. 
Evidently  she  had  entered  into  a  new  world,  of  thought  at 
least,  into  which  he  could  not  accompany  her.  She  had  long 
periods  also  of  absence.  "I  was  at  the  Louvre,  at  the  Expo 
sition,"  she  would  explain  when  she  came  back  ;  but  she 
moved  among  the  miles  of  pictures  in  the  Louvre  as  if  the 
walls  were  bare  instead.  She  threaded  her  way  through  the 
crowds  of  the  Exposition,  among  the  brilliant  display,  as  if 
she  were  in  an  uninhabited  desert. 

"  I  must  be  losing  my  mind,"  she  remonstrated  with  her 
self.  "  Why  is  it  that  I  lay  awake  at  night,  when  I  am  so 
tired,  too  ?  How  is  it  that  Paris  is  little  more  to  me  than  a 
dull  village?  I  have  no  appetite,  no  interest  in  anything. 
Really,  I  care  no  more  for  art  than  I  do  for  arithmetic,  and  I 
used  to  be  so  ambitious,  too.  Worst  of  all,  I  must  be  losing 
my  very  soul.  I  do  not  seem  to  love  even  my  dear  old  father 
as  I  used  to  do  ;  and  here  I  am  crying  as  if  I  were  a  baby. 
What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?  "  But  all  this  took  place  in 
the  privacy  of  her  inmost  heart,  and  she  would  bathe  her 
face,  arrange  her  hair,  array  herself  in  some  new  article  of 
dress,  and  kiss  her  father,  talk  with  him,  occupy  herself  in 
some  task  more  feverishly  than  before.  As  if  from  the  ur 
gency  of  the  case  he  had  come  to  be  a  mother  to  her  also, 
Zerah  Atchison  exerted  himself  more  than  ever  to  enter  into 
her  moods — to  entertain  her  as  he  best  could.  He  could  not, 
however,  but  be  conscious  that  Isidore  was  not  really  listen 
ing  to  him.  Even  when  he  was  talking  of  art  to  her  in  his 
brightest  vein,  she  would  say,  "  Yes,  father  ; "  "  No,  father ; " 
"  You  are  right,  sir  ; "  "  So  I  think,  too,"  and  would  have 
said  the  same  had  he  been  telling  her  of  the  irruptions 
more  than  a  thousand  years  ago  of  the  Goths  into  Italy. 

The  old  artist  saw  and  knew  the  meaning  of  all  this,  even 
when  he  seemed  to  be  blind.  He  could  not  have  had  so 
unerring  an  insight  as  to  objects  of  art  if  he  had  not  been 


ST.  PETERSBURG.  293 

able  to  see  through  mere  color  and  curve  in  the  case  of  his 
daughter  also,  and  he  was  glad  to  get  her  away  from  herself, 
if  possible,  by  taking  her  from  Paris.  Yes,  he  would  fly 
farther  than  to  Russia  if  he  could  bear  Isidore  with  him 
from  that  which  he  began  to  dread,  however  patient  he 
might  be,  with  terror.  "  He  will  be  with  us  only  while  on 
our  journey,"  the  father  said  to  himself  ;  "  after  we  get  to 
St.  Petersburg  we  will  see  him  no  more  for  ever." 

But  the  artist  did  not  allow  for  what  might  take  place 
during  the  journey.  By  some  blind  instinct  Lord  Conyng- 
ham  devoted  himself  almost  the  whole  way  to  Zerah  Atchi- 
son.  The  young  nobleman  had  come  to  feel  an  indifference 
the  most  profound  in  relation  to  all  women  except  one,  and 
Isidore  was  given  over  by  him,  even  more  than  due  courtesy 
allowed,  to  his  companion,  Henry  Harris.  Now,  there  are 
no  circumstances  which  draw  people  so  closely  together  as 
when  traveling  with  each  other,  and  where  in  the  world  are 
fellow-travelers  drawn  as  closely  together  as  when  riding  on 
the  cars  through  the  long  and  desolate  reaches  of  Russia  ? 

"  It  reminds  me,"  Henry  said  to  Isidore,  seated  beside 
him,  "  of  the  deserts  of  Southern  Russia  in  the  days  of  Cath 
arine  II,  when  hardly  a  miserable  peasant  was  to  be  seen, 
nor  even  a  hovel,  for  a  hundred  versts  at  a  stretch.  Catha 
rine  made  Potempkin  governor  of  the  entire  region,  and 
when  she  proposed  to  go  through  it  to  the  Black  Sea  and 
witness  for  herself  the  vast  improvements  of  which  Potemp 
kin  had  boasted,  he  was  at  his  wits'  end.  In  his  desperation 
he  caused  an  immense  number  of  wooden  houses  to  be  so 
made  that  they  could  be  rapidly  erected  and  taken  down. 
When  the  Empress  got  to  the  edge  of  the  wilderness,  she 
found  what  seemed  to  be  a  flourishing  town  filled  with  thriv 
ing  villagers.  The  instant  she  was  through  it  the  entire 
town  was  taken  to  pieces,  hurried  ahead  in  wagons — at  least, 
so  they  say — and  set  up  again  by  the  roadside  farther  on  ;  and 
when,  in  her  slow  and  stately  progress,  she  arrived,  it  was 
to  find  what  seemed  to  be  another  town,  inhabitants  and  all, 
as  flourishing  as  that  which  she  had  left  behind.  Potempkin 


294  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

repeated  the  device  over  and  over  again  along  the  highway, 
until  she  wondered  at  the  innumerable  prosperous  towns 
through  which  she  journeyed.  Arrived  at  last,  after  a 
travel  of  many  weeks,  upon  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  and 
standing  delighted  in  the  same  old  town,  now  erected  for  her 
inspection  for  the  twentieth  time  upon  its  edge,  Catharine 
heaped  additional  wealth  and  honors  upon  the  governor  who 
had  made  the  desert  the  most  populous  and  prosperous  por 
tion  of  her  dominions." 

Isidore  laughed.  "See,"  she  said,  as  the  train  moved 
slowly  along,  "  what  a  weary  wilderness  it  is.  Where  do 
the  people  live  ?  Nothing  but  forest  and  plain  to  be  seen," 
and  she  was  not  sorry  that  she  had  a  protector  by  her  side. 
This  was  great  Russia  !  Her  father  was  old  and  feeble.  Ex 
cept  her  father  and  her  companions,  she  was  alone  in  the  wide 
world  !  It  waa  dangerous  for  both  of  them,  since  by  an  irre 
sistible  fate  each  was  finding  in  the  other  his  and  her  highest 
ideal.  Isidore  had  never  loved  before.  As  to  her  compan 
ion,  he  had  come  to  know  that  what  he  had  once  thought  to 
be  love  for  Lady  Blanche  had  really  been  an  admiration 
merely,  admiration  so  great  that  he  had  mistaken  it  for 
affection.  When  the  Englishwoman  surrendered  herself 
to  such  a  man  as  the  Duke  of  Plymouth,  she  repelled  the 
American  from  her  with  a  force  which  startled  him,  it  was 
so  much  like  unspeakable  disgust.  And  now  he  was  thrown 
into  intimate  relations  with  a  woman  who  was  the  most 
charming  because  the  most  perfect  of  contrasts  to  the  lady 
of  rank.  Yes  ;  she  was  as  beautiful,  more  beautiful,  than 
Lady  Blanche  !  The  daughter  of  Earl  Dorrington  was  a 
creature  of  society  ;  here  was  a  woman  as  fresh  from  nature 
itself  as  Venus  arising  from  the  foam  of  the  sea.  No  palace 
or  castle  had  she  ;  no  retinue  of  friends  or  of  servants.  Ex 
cept  her  father,  she  was  as  much  alone  in  the  world  as  Eve 
in  Paradise,  unless  he  who  sat  beside  her  was  a  third.  The 
truth  is,  these  two  persons  were  not  journeying  toward  St. 
Petersburg.  They  never  thought  of  Russia,  or  Prince  Ka- 
litzoff,  or  of  anything  in  all  the  world  as  they  went.  Each 


PRINCE  KALITZOFF.  295 

was  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  other.     That  was 
all.     To  each,  life  had,  at  last,  no  other  goal  but  that. 

On  reaching,  and  it  astonished  them  how  soon  they  did 
so,  the  capital  of  Russia,  they  found  the  carriages  of  the 
Prince  awaiting  them  at  the  station.  Prince  Kalitzoff  him 
self  stood  at  the  door  of  their  car  when  they  alighted.  They 
were  warmly  greeted  by  him,  and  the  father  and  daughter 
were  driven  to  his  palace  upon  Nevskoi  Prospekt. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

PRINCE     KALITZOFP. 

WHEN  Prince  Kalitzoff  assisted  Isidore  Atchison  to  alight 
from  the  railway  train  at  the  St.  Petersburg  station,  she  was 
struck  by  his  appearance.  He  was  quite  a  large  man,  with 
a  broad  face,  kind  but  sad,  of  a  fair  complexion,  with  dark 
eyes,  his  abundant  hair  and  beard  being  of  a  color  she  had 
never  before  seen.  "  It  is,"  her  father  told  her  afterward, 
"  of  that  shade  of  orange  which  painters  call '  lion's-eye,'  and 
it  sets  out  his  pleasing  features,  his  whole  person,  in  fact,  as 
a  gilded  frame  does  a  picture." 

"  Welcome  to  Holy  Russia  !  "  the  Prince  said  to  the  artist 
and  his  daughter  in  good  English,  for  he  had  once  been  sec 
retary  of  legation  from  Russia  to  England.  "  I  esteem  my 
self  honored  by  the  company  of  artists  above  all  other  of  the 
nobility,  and,"  he  added,  taking  the  hand  of  Isidore  again 
in  his,  "  when  one  of  them  is  a  lady  also —  But,  dear  me, 
madame,"  he  added,  with  an  impulsive  ardor  which  made  her 
flush,  as  Isidore  unveiled  herself  to  reply,  "  you  are  only  a 
child,  a  beautiful  child  !  "  In  half  an  hour  afterward  father 
and  daughter  were  comfortably  housed  in  their  own  apart 
ments. 

The  palace  of  Prince  Kalitzoff  was  one  of  the  largest 
upon  the  Nevskoi  Prospekt,  but  the  glory  of  it  was  the  am- 


296  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

pie  grounds  with  conservatories  and  flower-gardens  in  which 
it  was  nestled.  At  some  distance  from  the  stately  mansion, 
and  separated  from  it  by  a  little  grove  of  firs,  was  a  two- 
storied  cottage  which  the  Prince  had  set  apart  and  hand 
somely  furnished  for  the  exclusive  use  of  his  guests.  It  pos 
sessed  the  appointments  and  conveniences  of  a  comfortable 
home,  and  there  was  a  large  studio,  lighted  only  by  a  sky 
light,  which  filled  Zerah  Atchison  with  delight. 

"I  built  this  cottage,"  the  Prince  said,  when  he  visited 
them  a  day  or  two  after  their  arrival,  "  as  an  Easter  gift  to 
my  child,  the  Princess  Aura,  of  whom  you  must  endure  to 
hear  me  speak,  perhaps  too  much.  You  will  be  wholly  inde 
pendent  of  me,  with,  of  course,  your  own  table  and  carriage 
and  servants  ;  but  I  will  be  happy  to  have  you  consider  my 
palace  as  equally  at  your  disposal.  My  bronzes  and  paint 
ings  have  remained  in  the  palace,  covered  from  sight  since 
the  death  of  my  child,  and,  at  your  convenience,  sir,  I  hope 
you  will  select  such  as  you  wish  to  be  conveyed  here.  As 
to  the  monument,  I  desire  you  should  take  your  own  time, 
if  it  be  years.  I  am  a  lonely  man,  and  I  am  honored  by 
your  company."  But  it  was  the  evident  sincerity  of  the 
Prince  which  gave  to  his  cordial,  almost  boyish,  manner  its 
chief  charm,  and  father  and  daughter  soon  found  themselves 
conversing  with  him  as  if  he  had  been  an  old  and  intimate 
friend.  They  found  it  easy  to  lead  the  conversation  back  to 
his  daughter,  and  listened  with  unfeigned  interest  as  he  told 
them,  with  an  exaggeration  which  was  natural  in  so  devoted 
a  parent,  many  incidents  of  her  short  life. 

<:  Why  is  it,"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  arose  to  leave  at  last, 
"  that  you  Americans  are  so  different  from  the  English  ?  I 
have,  like  you,  a  passion  for  art,  and  I  know  that  popes,  em 
perors,  and  kings  have  always  considered  the  Michael  An- 
gelos,  Rubenses,  Titians,  Canovas,  Thorwaldsens,  as  more 
than  their  equals  ;  but  why  is  it  that,  unconsciously  to  your 
selves,  simply  because  you  are  Americans,  you  make  your 
selves  friends  also  upon  first  acquaintance  ?  "  And  thus,  with 
many  kind  words,  there  began  between  the  Russian  and  his 


PRINCE  KALITZOFF.  297 

guests  an  acquaintance  which  ripened  so  rapidly,  as  the 
time  passed,  into  friendship  that  Isidore  could  not  refrain 
from  saying  in  the  end  to  her  father,  as  to  herself,  "And 
this  is  Russia  !  Russia  ?  I  feel  more  at  home  almost  than 
I  did  in  America." 

"  That,  my  child,  is,"  her  father  replied,  "  because,  for 
the  first  time  in  your  life,  you  are  placed  in  the  sphere  to 
which  you  naturally  belong.  It  is  not  often  that  God  docs 
this  until  we  die.  The  happiness,  the  peace,  rather,  of  heav 
en  will  consist  in  our  being  perfectly  fitted  for  it  as  it  will 
be  for  us  ;  in  the  deepest  sense,  dear,  you  and  I  will  find 
ourselves  perfectly  at  home  there." 

Meanwhile  Henry  Harris  and  Lord  Conyngham  made 
themselves  comfortable  at  their  hotel.  Dressed  as  students, 
and  guided  by  Toffski,  the  moujik,  who  was  born  in  St.  Pe 
tersburg,  where  he  had  first  become  the  servant  of  Henry 
Harris,  the  young  men  penetrated  into  every  part  of  the 
city  by  night  as  by  day.  But  there  was  rarely  a  day  that 
the  American  did  not  find  himself  a  visitor  at  the  palace 
of  the  Prince  or  the  cottage  of  the  artists.  In  fact,  the 
Prince  was  to  be  found  of  an  evening  only  with  Zerah  At- 
chison  and  his  daughter.  He  had  long  secluded  himself 
seemingly  from  an  active  part  in  public  affairs,  nor  had  he 
gone  into  general  society  since  the  death  of  his  daughter. 
The  mother  of  Princess  Aura  never  was  much  of  a  compan 
ion  for  him,  and  she  had  died  many  years  before  her  daugh 
ter.  A  man  of  simple  and  sincere  disposition,  of  warm  and 
loving  heart,  accustomed  all  his  life  to  do  as  he  pleased, 
with  little  to  occupy  his  attention  elsewhere,  the  Prince 
came  at  last  to  feel  as  if  he  was  nearest  to  the  daughter  he 
had  loved  so  well  when  in  the  cottage  he  had  erected  for 
her,  and  with  the  friends  who  were  engaged  in  bringing  her 
back  to  him  again,  so  far  as  it  could  be  done  by  the  power 
of  genius.  For  artistic  purposes,  also,  they  were  continu 
ally  asking  about  the  Princess  Aura,  for  the  father  and 
daughter  were  as  eager  to  hear  about  her  as  the  Prince  was 
to  speak. 


298  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Henry  Harris  found  himself 
one  evening  with  them  in  the  cozy  parlor  of  the  cottage. 
The  invariable  samovar  of  boiling  tea  was  still  upon  the 
table,  which  was  heaped  with  photographs  of  the  dead  Prin 
cess,  for  it  had  been  her  father's  weakness  to  have  her  taken 
in  all  varieties  of  costume  and  attitude.  In  the  studio  ad 
joining  there  were  portraits  of  her  also  from  her  earliest 
infancy,  and  medallions.  Isidore  had,  in  fact,  entered  with 
enthusiasm  upon  her  work. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  now  said,  "  to  feel  as  if  I  knew  her 
all  my  life.  If  I  had  lived  with  her,  I  do  not  see  how  I 
could  have  a  clearer  conception  of  her  than  I  have  at  this 
moment.  When  I  know  and  see,  almost  touch  and  hear,  an 
ideal,  as  I  am  coming  to  do  in  regard  to  her,  it  is  more  viv 
idly  before  me  than  if  it  were  actually  present.  Sleeping 
and  waking,  I  can  not  be  rid  of  it,  even  if  I  would." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  Prince,  whose  large,  slow  eyes 
had  been  dwelling  upon  the  young  girl  as  she  spoke  with 
deep  attention,  "  but  you  must  not  allow  even  my  sainted 
child  thus  to  haunt  you.  You  look  pale  ;  you  speak  of  dis 
turbed  repose.  I  learn  from  your  perhaps  over-anxious  ser 
vants  that  you  eat  as  little  as  a  canary-bird.  We  must  not 
allow  it,"  he  added  to  the  old  artist.  "  Miss  Isidore  is  in 
juring  her  health.  As  her  doctor,  also,  I  prohibit  any  work 
for  a  week  or  two.  You  must  ride  ;  must  go  to  the  opera 
more  ;  must  ramble  about  the  city.  I  can  not,"  he  said,  with 
his  eyes  again  upon  her,  "  I  will  not,  suffer  you  to  sacrifice 
yourself  !  " 

As  it  was  said,  a  sudden  something  smote  Henry  Harris 
almost  like  a  blow.  He  observed,  or  imagined  he  did,  a  ten 
derness  upon  the  part  of  the  Prince.  When  he  glanced  at 
Isidore,  her  face  paled  and  then  flushed.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  it.  "  You  must  remember,"  the  Prince  con 
tinued,  still  looking  at  his  lovely  young  guest,  "  that  you  are 
not  in  your  America  now,  nor  even  in  republican  France. 
This  is  Russia  ;  you  are  under  a  despotism.  If  you  do  not 
obey  orders,  you  may  find  yourself  in  Siberia." 


PRINCE  KALITZOFF.  299 

« 

In  however  playful  a  manner  it  might  be  said,  the  young 
man  almost  resented  it,  and  hastened  to  change  the  subject 
to  the  political  condition  of  the  empire.  The  Prince  had 
known  George  Harris,  as  well  as  his  son,  too  long  not  to 
speak  unreservedly  in  reply. 

"  It  is  explained  in  a  few  words,"  he  summed  up  at  last. 
"  Your  Shakespeare  says  that  there  are  tides  in  the  affairs  of 
men.  He  is  right.  The  Atlantic  does  not  ebb  and  flow  with 
more  regularity  than  does  the  intellect.  With  this  excep 
tion,  that  as  the  Atlantic  is  but  a  drop  of  water  compared  to 
the  depth  and  breadth  of  the  human  soul,  so  are  the  tides  of 
the  soul  deeper,  slower,  more  certain,  more  irresistible.  The 
mastery  of  the  world  by  the  Roman  Empire  was  one  of  these 
tides,  and  the  decay  of  that  empire  was  its  ebb.  There  was 
not  a  soul  in  Europe  that  did  not  feel  the  rush  of  the  tide  in 
the  days  of  the  Crusades,  as  well  as  the  subsidence  of  the 
reaction  which  followed.  So  of  the  Renaissance.  What  a 
grand  upheaval,  and  from  the  very  depths,  during  that  re 
vival  of  ancient  learning,  with  its  refluent  waters  afterward  ! 
The  Reformation  under  Huss,  Wickliffe,  Luther,  was  an 
other  flood  ;  the  ebb  is  in  the  Protestant  rationalism,  espe 
cially  of  Germany,  which  ensued.  So  of  Russia.  Peter  the 
Great  was  but  the  crest  of  such  an  upheaving.  Russia  rose 
upon  it  only  to  subside  somewhat  during  the  reigns  which 
followed.  To-day  the  intellect  of  the  race  has  broken  over 
all  separating  barriers.  Humanity  is  one  ;  and  over  the 
whole  world  the  awakening  intellect  is  one,  as  if  it  were  one 
vast  ocean,  covering  almost  the  entire  planet.  Very  well. 
The  tide  which  rises  in  America  lifts  also  every  soul  in  Eng- 
land,  France,  Germany,  Italy.  Even  such  stagnant  bays  as 
Spain,  Portugal,  and  the  Papacy  are  affected  by  it.  Shall 
not  Russia  also  yield  to  the  lift  of  the  universal  tide  ?  If 
we  are  Russians,  are  we  not  part  also  of  the  race  ?  " 

"  Your  Excellency  is  right,"  the  young  engineer  hastened 
to  say.  "  But  that  is  why,  if  you  will  allow  me,  repression 
is  so  dangerous  a  task.  There  is  vast  intellectual  force  in 
Russia  ;  but  how  can  it  reveal  itself  ?  You  need  not  tell 


300  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

me  of  outlets  for  it  in  literature,  in  art,  in  science,  in  com 
merce.  God  has  so  made  the  human  mind  that  if  it  is  re 
pressed  in  even  one  respect  it  is  held  in  check  in  all.  It 
must  have  the  absolute  freedom  of  the  ocean  in  every  point 
if  it  is  to  rise  and  flow  at  its  highest  power  in  any.  Amer 
ica  has  political  freedom,  your  Excellency  ;  is  absolutely  un- 
trammeled  ;  therefore  it  produces  also  artists,  poets,  orators, 
inventors,  discoverers.  The  unparalleled  power  of  our  West 
ern  farmers  to  feed  the  world,  of  our  miners  to  supply  the 
silver  of  the  world,  its  coal  and  oil  and  gold,  is  merely  a 
part  of  the  same  force,  because  freedom,  of  our  newspaper 
press,  of  our  inventive  genius.  To  reach  his  highest  stature, 
your  Excellency,  the  Russian,  like  the  American,  must  be  ab 
solutely  free  and  in  every  possible  sense.  You  likened  the 
intellect  of  the  race  to  the  ocean  and  its  tides,  and,  no  more 
in  Russia  than  elsewhere,  can  you  suppress  the  ocean — your 
Excellency,  you  can  not  do  it !  " 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  The  Prince  asked  the  question 
with  the  gravity  of  a  statesman.  Apparently  he  had  sud 
denly  grown  older  as  well  as  colder.  It  was  as  if  his  face, 
so  genial  before,  had  become  a  mask  of  stone.  His  tones 
were  severe  as  well  as  serious.  "  Being  an  American,  it  is 
natural  you  should  speak  as  you  do,"  he  said,  sententiously. 
"  But  we  are  of  another  race.  Our  traditions,  our  religion, 
are  different; "  and  for  some  time  the  Prince  continued  to  con 
verse  as  became  the  conservative  philosopher  he  had  the  rep 
utation  of  being.  A  chill,  almost  a  gloom,  had  fallen  upon 
all  present.  Isidore  gave  an  almost  perceptible  shiver,  as  if 
touched  by  the  bitter  blasts  of  Siberia.  Henry  Harris  was 
sorry  he  had  alluded  to  the  matter,  and  soon  after  with 
drew. 

But  it  was  not  of  political  matters  he  thought  as  he 
mounted  his  tarantass  and  was  driven  to  his  hotel.  "  I  had 
not  imagined,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  she  could  seem  so 
lovely  !  And  what  did  Prince  Kalitzoff  mean  by  his  linger 
ing  glances  at  her  ?  He  is  still  young  and  of  a  passionate 
temperament.  A  Russian  is  either  utter  master  or  utter 


THE  DEPTHS.  301 

slave.  Under  a  mere  varnish  of  politeness  Kalitzoff  is,  at 
best,  a  semi-civilized  savage,  a  Tartar,  and  I  must  be  on  my 
guard.  Suppose  he  should  dare  ?  " 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE   DEPTHS. 

ONE  evening  the  young  American  summoned  his  man 
Toffski  into  a  room  in  which  Lord  Conyngham  and  himself 
were  busy  preparing  themselves  for  a  midnight  expedition 
into  the  deepest  depths  of  St.  Petersburg.  The  moujik 
was,  as  has  been  said,  an  undersized  and  very  thickset  man. 
His  full  and  florid  face  looked,  in  its  environment  of  hay- 
colored  hair  and  whiskers,  like,  Isidore  had  told  his  master, 
"  the  harvest  moon  in  a  halo  of  fog."  Perhaps  it  was  be 
cause  he  was  nearly  as  broad  as  he  was  long,  but  as  he  now 
stood  waiting  he  was  almost  as  solid,  as  stolid,  and  as  still  as 
a  block  of  wood.  The  young  men  paid  no  attention  to  him 
for  some  time,  aware  that  Toffski  could  stand  without  mo 
tion  in  the  same  four-square  repose  for  hours,  could  sleep  as 
he  stood  all  night,  could  die,  if  need  be,  without  movement  or 
the  least  noise.  A  being  more  absolutely  the  property  of  his 
master  it  was  impossible  to  imagine. 

"  Toffski  Ivanovitch,"  the  American  said  at  last,  in  Rus 
sian,  "  listen.  I  want  this  gentleman  to  know.  Tell  no  lies. 
What  are  the  occupations  of  the  Russians  in  general  ?  " 

"  Henry  Georgeovitch,"  was  the  slow  but  steady  reply, 
"the  Russians  beat  or  are  beaten.  They  tell  lies,  drink  vodka, 
and  gamble  at  stuJcolka" 

"Ask  him  what,  then,  are  their  vices,"  Lord  Conyngham 
said,  when  this  had  been  translated  to  him,  for,  although  the 
man  knew  a  little  English,  his  master  and  himself  always 
conversed  in  Russian. 

"  Henry  Georgeovitch,"  the  moujik  answered,  when  the 


302  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

question  had  been  asked,  "  the  Russians  beat  each  other,  tell 
lies,  drink  vodka,  gamble.  They  are  raskolinks,  rascals." 

"This  Aglitcha,  Englishman,"  his  master  asked  next, 
"  demands  what  are  the  amusements  of  the  Russians.  An 
swer,  Toffski  Ivanovitch." 

"Henry  Georgeovitch,"  came  the  reply,  "the  Russians 
go  sometimes  to  church  or  play  the  accordeon,  but  that  is 
not  always.  They  amuse  themselves  by  gambling,  drinking 
vodka,  telling  lies,  and  beating  whoever  they  can  with  a  big 
stick,"  and,  standing  solidly  upon  his  short  legs,  the  moujik 
seemed  quite  willing  to  be  questioned,  or  himself  beaten, 
until  the  others  should  be  exhausted. 

"  Who  in  the  devil's  name  is  Bakunin  ?  "  demanded  Lord 
Conyngham,  suddenly. 

"  He  is  the  devil  himself  !  "  the  Russian  answered,  cross 
ing  his  forehead  and  each  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  as  to  Michael  Bakunin,"  his  master  explained  for 
him,  "  he  was  a  rich  native  of  St.  Petersburg,  born  in  1814, 
who,  bitterly  disappointed  in  his  ambition,  devoted  himself 
to  philosophy  and  insurrections.  Have  you  seen  none  of  his 
innumerable  pamphlets  ?  He  says  that  right  is  merely  an 
invention  of  might,  that  conscience  is  the  creature  of  educa 
tion,  that  God  is  only  the  personification  of  tyranny.  Here 
is  one  of  his  proclamations — the  better  to  inform  myself,  I 
obtained  it  to-day  ; "  and,  taking  it  from  an  inner  pocket, 
the  American  translated  the  closing  threat :  "  I,  Michael  Ba 
kunin,  summon  you  to  the  destruction  of  emperor  and  em 
pire.  Tear  out  of  your  souls  all  belief  in  the  existence  of 
God.  Property,  marriage,  morality,  science,  justice,  civil 
ization — I  doom  to  eternal  death.  No  law,  no  religion, 
nihil!"  and  a  good  deal  more  to  the  same  effect.  "Yet 
Bakunin,"  Henry  Harris  added,  putting  the  paper  up,  "  devil 
as  he  is,  has  disciples  all  over  Russia  by  the  thousands,  in 
all  ranks.  Let  us  go  and  see  what  we  can  for  ourselves." 

Saying  a  few  words  to  his  man,  the  three  set  out.  The 
two  gentlemen  were  wrapped  up  in  cloaks  to  hide  their 
coarse  student  apparel  until  they  got  into  a  tarantass,  in 


THE  DEPTHS.  303 

which,  with  Toffski  upon  the  seat  by  the  driver,  they  were 
driven  eastward  and  toward  the  worst  part  of  the  city.  At 
a  certain  point  they  alighted  from  their  vehicle,  leaving  the 
driver  to  wait  for  them,  which  he  did  by  falling  sound  asleep 
on  the  seat  before  they  were  gone  a  hundred  yards  into  the 
darkness. 

"  We  are  well  armed,  and  Toffski  knows  where  to  go," 
the  American  said  as  they  strode  on  through  the  dimly 
lighted  streets.  It  was  very  late.  Now  and  then  a  dog 
barked,  or  a  watchman  went  by,  looking  at  them  closely. 

"  I  see  a  light  glimmering  in  every  house  ;  why  is  that  ?  " 
the  Englishman  asked  as  they  walked  with  Toffski  leading 
the  way. 

"  In  every  home  in  Russia,"  his  companion  replied,  "  a 
lamp  burns  always  before  the  sacred  images.  Do  you  know, 
my  lord,  I  can  not  believe  that  Heaven  despises  those  poor, 
smoking  lights  ?  Wherever  and  whenever  a  living  creature 
tries  to  pray,  and  the  best  he  knows  how,  I  believe  it  is  as 
acceptable  to  God  as  if  it  was  the  most  powerful  prayer  ever 
put  up  in  Westminster  Abbey  by  your  Archbishop  of  Can 
terbury  himself.  God  looks  at  the  intention  only,  and  he 
knows  that  very  often  people  are  no  more  responsible  for 
their  situation  than  they  are  for  the  color  of  their  eyes  or  the 
malaria  in  which  they  are  condemned  to  live." 

At  this  moment  Toffski  halted  before  the  red  curtain  of  a 
small  and  poorly  lighted  house,  and  said  something  in  Rus 
sian  to  his  mastei*. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  lowest  of  the  Nihilist  cafes"  the  lat 
ter  explained  to  his  friend.  "  We  are  Russian  students,  you 
know.  They  are  the  worst  socialists  in  Russia,  so  that  no 
body  will  be  surprised  to  see  us.  Our  flaxen  wigs  make  us 
sufficiently  Russian,  but  you,  especially,  must  keep  silent, 
whatever  befalls."  Saying  which,  the  three  entered  the  house. 
It  was  not  as  much  unlike  the  London  pothouse  as  one  would 
have  expected.  There  was  the  same  bar,  presided  over  by  a 
very  fat  and  ugly  woman,  a  large  inner  room  with  black 
walls,  an  immense  stove  in  the  center,  a  number  of  tables, 


304  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

about  which  coarse  and  heavy-featured  men,  and  men  also  of 
more  cultivated  appearance,  sat  drinking  kislitchi  or  vodka, 
playing  at  games,  smoking.  And  yet,  and  from  the  outset, 
Lord  Conyngham  felt  as  if  almost  every  one  present  was  dis 
guised  as  well  as  himself  and  his  companion.  There  was  no 
platform,  as  in  "  The  Hammer  an'  down  wi'  'em,"  nor  was 
there  any  general  conversation. 

Every  one  looked  sharply  at  them  as  they  took  their  seats 
at  a  table  in  a  corner  and  ordered  drink  and  pipes.  The 
American  conversed  with  his  moujik  in  angry  Russian,  as  if 
in  continuance  of  a  quarrel,  emphasizing  what  he  had  to  say 
with  a  blow  on  Toffski's  ear  at  last,  which  was  quite  in 
keeping.  As  he  had  said,  students  from  the  universities  were 
frequent  visitors,  and  very  soon  their  presence  seemed  to  be 
forgotten.  The  attention  of  the  nobleman  was  drawn,  he 
knew  not  why,  to  a  number  of  beardless  youths  off  to  them 
selves  at  a  table.  Several  of  them  wore  spectacles  ;  the  hair 
of  all  was  cut  short ;  some  smoked  cigarettes  or  cigars.  They 
conversed  with  each  other  in  whispers,  but  as  a  rule  they 
listened  instead,  continually  glancing  at  each  other ;  occa 
sionally  laughing,  as  if  to  themselves  also.  There  was  some 
thing  odd  in  the  manner  in  which  they  were  grouped. 

"  They  are  girls,  women,  even  ladies  ! "  the  American 
cautiously  whispered  to  his  friend,  "  and  they  are  entirely 
virtuous  and  respectable,  too.  They  have  sons,  brothers, 
husbands,  among  these  men.  As  in  America  during  our 
civil  war,  the  women  of  Russia  are,  if  possible,  more  deeply 
interested  in  the  impending  revolution  than  the  men.  The 
worst  feature  of  Nihilism  is  that  its  female  adherents  seek  to 
unsex  themselves  ;  they  are  the  most  frantic  of  its  disciples 
— drinking,  smoking,  wearing  their  hair  short,  in  sheer  bra 
vado.  Listen."  For  two  men  were  engaged  by  this  time  in 
a  noisy  discussion  at  a  table  near  the  center  of  the  room. 

"  The  Nihilists  are  scoundrels  ! "  the  Englishman  was 
astonished  to  hear  one  of  them  exclaim  at  last.  "  Our 
Emperor  has  many  thousand  rubles  a  day,  but  does  he  not 
deserve  it  for  being  the  father  of  his  people  ?  Suppose  our 


THE  DEPTHS.  305 

army  does  number  nearly  two  millions,  and  suppose  they  are 
drawn  from  the  shops  and  the  fields,  have  we  not  to  fight,  to 
fight  England,  which  is  becoming  a  republic?  Look  at 
France  ;  it  is  free,  as  they  call  it ;  it  is  a  republic,  and  as 
such  is  growing  richer  every  day.  It  must  be  crushed  ! " 
The  one  who  spoke  was  a  powerful-looking  man,  with  broad 
shoulders  and  a  fierce  air  as  of  authority. 

"  But  surely  the  people  of  Holy  Russia  should  be  free 
also,"  remonstrated  his  opponent,  a  pale,  weak-eyed  man,  in 
spectacles,  and  with  a  timid  manner.  "  Look  at  our  taxes. 
Consider  our  sons  torn  from  us  by  conscription.  Our  press — 
has  it  any  freedom?  The  Emperor  has  emancipated  twenty 
million  serfs.  That  was  in  1861.  Surely  it  is  time  to  give 
freedom  to  the  remaining  sixty  millions  of  his  subjects. 
Bulgaria  is  obtaining  a  constitution.  Surely  we  are — " 

"  Silence  !  "  roared  the  other.  "  You  must  be  a  socialist 
yourself  !  I  dare  say  if  your  house  were  searched  we  would 
find  copies  of  the  Nihilist  papers,  the  l  Zamlja  i  Wolja '  or 
the  '  N^abab."1  And  to  think  that  even  women,  respectable  la 
dies,  are  taking  part  in  the  accursed  movement.  There  are  " 
— and  Lord  Conyngham  observed  the  intense  interest  shown 
at  the  table  of  the  disguised  women  as  this  was  said — "  there 
are  Vjera  Sassulitch,  Sophia  Loschern  von  Herzfeld,  even  a 
daughter  of  an  imperial  councilor,  Nathalie  von  Armfeldt. 
Mary  Kovalerski  is  one  of  the  nobility,  yet  she  has  given 
money,  circulates  socialist  papers,  such  as  '  The  Pole  Star ' 
and  '  The  Clock.'  The  father  of  Katharina  Sarandovitch  is 
a  high  official,  and  it  was  proved  that  she  was  active  in  the 
same  detestable  business." 

"  But  it  was  also  proved,"  ventured  the  other  man,  "  that 
Vjera  Sassulitch  only  knew  Netchaieff  as  the  brother  of  h<!r 
friend  ;  had  no  part  nor  sympathy  in  his  socialistic  ideas,  and 
she  was  eleven  years  in  prison  merely  upon  vague  suspicion. 
As  to  the  assault  on  the  rascal  police-chief  Trepoff,  was  it 
not  because  she  had  been  driven,  after  she  was  released,  to 
desperation  by  what  she  knew  had  been  done  to  Bogoljuboff, 
an  innocent  prisoner,  whom  she  had  never  even  seen  ?  The 


306  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

men  who  try  to  assassinate  our  Emperor,  Karakasoff,  Ber- 
zowski,  Solouveff,  are  madmen.  But  tell  me,"  persisted  the 
pale-faced  man,  "  what  drove  them  mad  ?  " 

"  They  are  devils  !  "  shouted  his  burly  antagonist.  "  To 
day  sixty  thousand  political  exiles  toil,  I  am  glad  to  say,  in 
the  mines  of  Siberia.  Twelve  hours  a  day  do  they  have  to 
work,  with  no  such  thing  as  Sunday  the  year  round.  Eas 
ter  and  the  Emperor's  birthday  are  the  only  days  they  rest. 
Scoundrels  !  They  will  broil  in  hell  for  ever  !  And  to  think 
that  there  are  nobles  among  them,  princesses,  too  ;  judges, 
who  betrayed  the  Czar  by  being  too  lenient  to  their  prison 
ers  ;  learned  men,  educated  men,  priests,  school-teachers, 
scientists,  men  who  ought  to  know  better  than  to  try  and 
overturn  our  holy  empire.  They  would  try  to  drag  us  down 
to  the  level  of  France,  England  ;  down  even  to  the  level  of 
America,  where  everybody  does  what  he  pleases.  Wretches  ! 
It  is  radical  writing,  like  that  of  Berzen  ;  it  is  treasonable 
poetry,  like  that  of  Pushkin,  which  puts  the  torch  to  Russia, 
as  Rostoptchin  did  to  Moscow  in  1812  ;  it  is  such  rascals 
who  seek  to  destroy  us."  And  for  some  time  the  conversa 
tion  continued,  the  pale  man  attempting  to  defend,  the  black- 
bearded  giant  assaulting  the  revolutionists  with  almost  elo 
quent  denunciation,  in  which  the  labors  of  the  radicals 
throughout  Russia,  of  democrats  throughout  the  world,  in 
fact,  were  detailed  in  fierce  displeasure.  All  around  them 
sat  the  people,  drinking,  smoking,  listening — above  all,  lis 
tening  !  It  was  like  bedlam  to  the  English  nobleman,  who 
could  see,  but  could  understand  nothing.  Standing  upon 
his  feet  in  one  corner,  the  moujik  had  fallen  apparently  sound 
asleep. 

In  continuation  of  his  denunciation,  the  burly  defender 
of  the  Government  told  at  last  with  indignation  of  an  inroad 
made,  a  few  days  before,  by  the  police  at  Kief,  upon  a  Ni 
hilist  club,  their  object  being  the  arrest  especially  of  Cata- 
rina  Simolovitch,  the  daughter  of  a  university  professor, 
who  had  made  herself  peculiarly  obnoxious.  As  the  police 
burst  in  at  the  front  door,  Catarina  and  her  husband  rose 


THE  DEPTHS.  307 

from  the  garden  behind  the  house  in  a  balloon  held  in 
readiness.  The  pale  man  ventured  to  laugh  at  this,  and  in 
an  instant  the  other,  knocking  down  the  table  between  them, 
displaying  as  he  did  so  his  badge  as  an  officer  of  police,  took 
him  by  the  throat.  It  was  a  frightful  spectacle.  The  pale 
man  was  comparatively  small  and  weak,  and  the  officer,  who 
was  a  giant,  in  the  extremity  of  a  wrath  which  it  was  hard 
to  comprehend,  seizing  the  other  about  the  throat  with  both 
hands,  lifted  him  from  the  floor,  strangling,  writhing  like  a 
worm,  struggling,  his  eyes  protruding,  his  tongue  hanging 
out  of  his  mouth,  his  face  blackened  by  his  agony.  Both  of 
the  visitors  hurled  themselves  forward  to  prevent,  but  Toff- 
ski  had  clasped  his  arms  about  his  master,  and  was  holding 
him  as  he  would  have  held  a  baby,  while  the  Englishman, 
exclaiming  and  making  furious  efforts  to  get  through  the 
crowd,  which  had  arisen  and  interposed,  could  only  see  at 
last  that  the  poor  wretch  hung  motionless  and  dead  in  the 
remorseless  grasp  of  his  powerful  executioner. 

"  Even  the  women  did  not  shriek  or  lift  a  finger  to 
help  ! "  he  said,  as  they  drove  home  at  length  through  the 
early  dawn.  "  They  are  Nihilists,  and  yet  allow  a  policeman 
to  kill  their  own  defender  !  Cowards  ! " 

"  It  is  because  you  did  not  understand  my  explanation  all 
along,"  his  friend  said.  "  The  defender  of  the  Nihilists  was 
really  a  Government  spy,  collecting  evidence  to  send  us  all 
to  Siberia.  I  informed  myself  before  I  went.  The  police 
man  is  the  celebrated  Borozoffski,  who  is  also  a  Nihilist 
leader.  He  edits,  they  say,  the  Nihilist  paper,  '  Land  and 
Liberty,'  but  his  seeming  denunciation  of  the  revolution  was 
merely  one  way  of  disseminating  socialistic  news.  Except 
that  unfortunate  spy,  every  one  there  understood.  There 
are  over  three  million  Nihilists  in  Russia.  PriestSj  bishops, 
students,  professors,  commanders  in  the  navy,  generals  even 
in  the  army,  vast  numbers  in  the  police,  are  active  members  of 
the  propaganda.  I  like  Alexander,  I  love  Russia,  but  a  rev 
olution  is  impending  which  will  grind  it  to  chaos,  out  of  which 
God  alone  knows  what  kind  of  a  new  Russia  is  to  arise  ! " 


308  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  The  most  hopeless  thing  in  Russia,"  he  added,  a  mo 
ment  after,  "  is  that  women  are  so  prominent  among  the 
revolutionists — women  who  are  making  themselves  worse 
than  men?  No,  there  is  one  thing  worse,  if  possible,  than 
that.  It  is  that  the  Greek  Church — and  it  is  about  the  only 
Christianity  Russia  has — is  utterly  powerless  either  to  purify 
the  empire  or  to  prevent  the  revolution." 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

INTO  PERIL. 

ONE  evening,  when  Henry  Harris  and  Lord  Conyngham 
were  spending  the  evening  in  the  cottage  of  Zerah  Atchison, 
Prince  Kalitzoff  being  in  the  room,  Henry  Harris  said  to 
Isidore,  "  Let  me  tell  you  a  little  story."  The  young  girl 
had  been  hard  at  work  all  day,  and  was  seated  by  her  father, 
his  paralyzed  hand  lying  in  her  lap.  She  raised  her  eyes 
almost  timidly  to  his  face,  and  said,  "  I  would  like  to  hear 
it,"  whereupon  the  other  began  : 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  there  was  a  handsome  but  bearded 
ogre,  who  was  extremely  fond  of  young  people.  Not  that 
he  broiled  and  ate  them,  but  that  be  loved  to  give  balls  at 
his  palace,  and  to  see  them  dancing,  eating  ice-cream,  and 
enjoying  themselves.  One  day  he  was  told  that  he  had 
neglected  a  girl,  who,  although  the  daughter  of  a  poor  car 
penter,  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  all  that  region.  And  so  the 
bearded  ogre,  who  was  very  rich  as  well  as  kind-hearted, 
gave  a  ball  expressly  in  her  behalf,  and  when  the  time  came 
sent  his  carriage  for  her.  He  was  in  waiting  at  the  door  of 
his  palace  when  the  carriage  drove  up,  and  helped  her  off 
with  her  wrappings.  As  soon  as  he  saw  her  face  he  ex 
claimed,  '  Why,  you  dear  child,  how  very  pretty  you  are  ! ' 
and,  in  a  few  months  after  that,  he  married  her,  and  they 
made  one  of  the  happiest  couples  in  the  world." 


INTO  PERIL.  309 

"  And  who  was  the  ogre  ?  "  Isidore  demanded. 

"  His  name,"  the  narrator  replied,  "  was  Count  Bodisco. 
He  was  minister  from  Russia  to  the  United  States  at  Wash 
ington  City,  and  ever  since  his  marriage  to  that  poor  but 
good  and  beautiful  American  girl  there  has  been  a  sort  of 
love  match  also  between  Russia  and  America."  To  this 
Prince  Kalitzoff  assented,  even  cordially,  confirming  the 
story  from  his  own  knowledge.  It  was  plain  that  he  ap 
proved  of  what  the  ogre  had  done. 

"  That  is  what  perplexes  me,  Prince — you  must  allow  me 
to  say  it,"  Lord  Conyngham  broke  in  ;  "  but  I  never  could 
understand  why  the  Americans  always  side  with  you  Rus 
sians  against  us  English,  who  are  of  their  own  blood.  It  is 
absurd  !  " 

"  Not,"  the  American  interposed,  "  if  you  remember  that 
Russia  has  always  been  our  stanch  friend.  When  the  no 
bility  of  England — pardon  me,  my  lord — were  exulting,  dur 
ing  our  civil  war,  in  our  speedy  destruction  as  a  nation,  Rus 
sia  never  wavered.  It  was  the  hour  of  our  supreme  struggle 
for  existence,  and  centuries  hence  we  will  remember  that  the 
Pope  took  sides  with  the  Confederacy  against  us,  the  only 
power  that  did  so  ;  that  Charles  Dickens,  whom  we  had 
almost  worshiped,  was,  in  his  letters,  rejoicing  in  our  appa 
rent  destruction,  heaping  contemptuous  epithets  upon  us  ; 
that  Louis  Napoleon,  perjured  scoundrel  that  he  was,  did 
his  utmost  to  induce  England  to  join  him  against  us.  You, 
my  lord,  were  too  young  then  to  have  an  opinion  of  your 
own.  You,  Mr.  Atchison,  although  in  the  ranks  against  us, 
were  always  an  artist  and  never  a  partisan.  When  England 
attacks  Russia,  and  especially  in  defense  of  the  Turks,  she 
must  excuse  us  if  we  will  not  weep  if  she  is  defeated." 

"  My  father,  by  the  by,  writes  me  to-day,"  Lord  Conyng 
ham  said,  "  that  our  friend  Hassan  Pasha  is  dead.  He  sud 
denly  disappeared  from  Paris,  you  will  remember.  He  re 
turned,  it  seems,  to  Constantinople,  raised  an  insurrection 
against  the  Sultan,  failed,  and  was  found  next  day  dead  in  a 
bath-tub  in  his  own  palace.  Whether  he  had  been  killed,  or 


310  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

had  opened  his  veins  with  his  own  hand  and  bled  to  death, 
no  one  will  ever  know."  As  this  was  said,  Henry  Harris  was 
aware  that  Isidore  Atchison  had  turned  very  pale  ;  even  he 
did  not  know,  nor  her  own  father,  all  the  attempts  which  had 
been  made  upon  her  honor  by  the  Turk.  In  some  way  she 
had  learned  that  the  letter  over  which  she  had  at  first  re 
joiced,  but  which  she  had  given  up  to  Henry  Harris,  was  but 
one  of  these  attempts.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  noble 
man  as  he  now  said  : 

"  There  was  a  singular  story  afloat  in  Paris  in  connection 
with  his  sudden  leaving.  The  landlord  of  his  hotel  explained 
that  early  one  morning  a  gentleman  went  into  the  rooms 
of  Hassan  Pasha  and  gave  him  a  severe  beating  before  he 
was  out  of  bed.  It  seems  that  the  rascal  had  written  to  some 
lady.  It  served  him  right !  I  wish  I  knew  who  the  gentle 
man  was.  The  Turkish  villain  did  well  to  fly  to  Constanti 
nople." 

Henry  Harris,  as  this  was  said,  felt  rather  than  saw  that 
the  eyes  of  Isidore  were  fastened  upon  him,  her  face  was 
in  a  sudden  glow,  her  lips  were  parted,  and  he  hastened  to 
change  the  subject. 

"  We  were  speaking  of  Russia,"  he  remarked.  "  Your 
emperor  has  a  terrible  time  of  it,"  turning  to  Prince  Kalit- 
zoff.  "  He  has  been  very  kind  to  my  father  and  myself,  and 
I  am  Russian  enough  to  like  him  heartily." 

The  same  singular  change  took  place,  as  he  said  it,  in  the 
Prince  which  the  American  had  before  observed.  Generally 
he  was  the  most  cordial  and  off-handed  of  hosts  in  his  man 
ner  ;  now  he  became  cold  and  cautious  in  his  bearing,  and 
said,  slowly : 

"  His  Majesty  has  had  a  severe  training.  From  his  earli 
est  boyhood  he  was  an  officer  in  the  army.  He  had  to  arise 
before  day,  to  drill  and  be  drilled  for  many  hours  at  a  time, 
to  live  upon  hard  fare,  exposing  himself  to  all  weather,  even 
the  most  bitter  cold.  There  is  not  a  moujik  in  his  em 
pire  who  has  had  to  work  as  hard  as  he,  not  a  Tartar  of  the 
Ukraine  who  has  lived  as  much  in  the  open  air  and  on  horse- 


INTO  PERIL.  311 

back.  It  was  against  the  most  violent  opposition  that  he 
emancipated,  in  1861,  over  twenty  million  serfs.  People 
are  greatly  mistaken  when  they  imagine  that  he  inaugurates 
war  against  Turkey,  threatens  England  in  Afghanistan,  occu 
pies  Khiva,  annexes  fragments  of  Persia,  of  China.  Holy 
Russia  is  immeasurably  the  largest  empire  history  tells  of. 
It  is  like  an  immense  ship  of  war,"  the  Prince  added,  "  of 
which  Alexander  II  is  merely  the  pilot.  If  he  had  only  to 
hold  the  helm  while  an  unceasing  tempest  raged,  that  would 
task  the  energies  of  a  Hercules  !  that  is  the  least  of  his  work. 
The  empire  is  made  up  of  many  peoples  and  religions,  and 
there  is  mutiny  on  board  always.  Mutiny  among  the  nobles, 
insurrection  among  the  peasants,  disaffection  among  the  war 
ring  religions,  and  all  the  time  there  is  the  dry  rot,  as  among 
the  very  timbers  of  the  ship,  of  such  corruption  as  no  nation 
has  ever  before  conceived.  It  is  not  merely  that  officials  ha 
bitually  steal,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest ;  in  this  last  war 
against  the  Turk,  admirals,  commanders-in-chief,  as  much  as 
quartermasters,  even  grand  dukes,  bribe  and  are  bribed." 

"  The  Emperor  knows  all  "this,"  the  American  assented, 
"  and  is,  your  Excellency  knows,  almost  as  helpless  to  pre 
vent  it  as  I  am.  You  speak  of  the  empire  as  a  ship.  Yes, 
and  I  have  been  long  enough  in  Russia  to  know  that  it  is 
seized  upon  by  unexpected  currents,  whirled  about  by  cy 
clones  beyond  any  foresight  of  the  Emperor.  Nicholas  and 
his  minister  Nesselrode  could  not  prevent  the  disaster  of  the 
Crimean  War,  any  more  than  Alexander  and  Gortchakoff 
can  help  this  war  with  Turkey.  But  Alexander  is  a  strong, 
stern,  sorrowful  man,  who  fails  where  God  only  can  be  czar. 
I  sincerely  honor  and  respect  him.  But,  your  Excellency,  I 
would  rather  be  what  I  am — an  engineer." 

"  We  have  all  simply  to  do  our  duty  and  to  be  patient," 
Zerah  Atchison  added,  with  a  happy  face,  as  the  visitors 
arose  to  go.  Isidore  seemed  to  cling  more  closely  to  the 
old  artist  as  they  bowed  and  left  the  room.  She  had  glanced 
at  Prince  Kalitzoff,  then  at  the  American.  Her  face  was 

troubled. 

u 


312  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Yes,  I  fear  she  is  overtasking  herself,"  the  Prince  said, 
as  he  accompanied  the  gentlemen  to  the  door.  "  The  young 
lady  has  shown  me  her  first  draughts  for  the  monument. 
They  are  beyond  my  expectations.  Even  her  father  ap 
proves  of  them,"  he  added,  with  a  smile.  "  Miss  Isidore  is 
more  than  a  genius,  however.  She  is  the  most  charming  of 
women.  Ah  !  Mr.  Harris,  yours  is  a  great  country.  I  ad 
mire  your  little  story  exceedingly.  Happy  Bodisco  !  "  And 
he  shook  his  guest  warmly  by  the  hand,  contenting  himself 
with  bowing,  almost  coldly,  to  the  Englishman. 

"  What  possessed  me  to  tell  that  story  in  his  hearing  ?  " 
the  American  exclaimed  to  himself,  angrily.  "  Am  I  becom 
ing  a  fool ?  " 

But  Lord  Conyngham  was  thinking  of  something  else. 

"  We  are  bound  to  have  it  out  with  them  some  day,"  he 
said,  haughtily,  as  the  two  walked  away.  "  We  can  whip 
them  on  the  water,  but  if  we  go  at  it  in  India  there'll  be  the 
deuce  of  a  mess.  You  see,"  he  explained,  "  there's  no  telling 
which  side  those  Sikhs,  Afghans,  Hindoos,  and  the  like,  will 
take.  Rascals  !  I'm  afraid  the  beggars  don't  like  us  any  too 
much  !  We  visit  the  Annitchkoff  Palace  to-morrow  ;  don't 
forget.  Until  the  Earl  writes  that  he  is  ready  to  let  me 
marry  as  I  please,  I  stay,  you  observe,  where  I  am." 

But  his  companion  was  not  listening  to  him.  He  was 
thinking  how  old  and  feeble  Zerah  Atchison  appeared  to 
have  become  ;  how  timid  and  shrinking  his  daughter  seemed  ; 
"  and  it  does  appear  to  me,"  he  thought,  "  that  the  Prince 
might  be  more  fatherly  than  he  is  in  his  regards  for  her. 
He  is  immensely  rich  ;  is  lonely  in  his  great  palace  ;  has  such 
an  ardent  and  despotic  nature,  who  can  tell  what  he —  From 
my  very  soul  I  am  sorry  she  is  here  !  " 

The  next  day  the  American  and  his  English  friend  had, 
while  inspecting  the  pictures  in  the  Annitchkoff  Palace,  an 
unexpected  adventure.  In  consequence  of  a  special  permit, 
they  were  standing  together,  no  one  but  a  servant  with  them, 
before  a  painting  of  the  coronation  of  Alexander  II,  when 
the  door  opened  and  a  gentleman  entered.  At  a  glance  Lord 


INTO  PERIL.  313 

Conyngham  saw  that  it  was  the  monarch  depicted  upon  the 
glowing  canvas,  and  both  visitors  turned  and  stood  with  un 
covered  heads  as  the  stately  sovereign  passed  rapidly  by. 
But  his  sharp,  military  eye  recognized  the  engineer,  whom 
he  had  often  seen  before. 

"  Mr.  Harris,"  he  said  in  English,  "  I  am  pleased  to  see 
you.  You  were  in  Paris.  What  are  you  doing  in  Rus 
sia  ?  " 

Lord  Conyngham  was  as  brave,  as  manly  an  Englishman 
as  any,  but  royalty  had  a  glamour  for  him  which  it  did  not 
have  for  his  friend.  "  Confound  it !  how  cool  he  is  ! "  he 
thought,  for  the  American  was  standing  as  erect  as  the  Czar, 
only  less  tall  than  the  colossal  Alexander,  and  was  looking 
the  other  composedly  in  the  face. 

"  Does  your  Majesty  insist  upon  knowing  ? "  he  asked, 
with  deference,  but  composedly. 

"  I  do,"  was  the  reply,  with  some  surprise  in  the  face  of 
the  Emperor,  which  seemed  set  into  a  certain  bronze,  as  of 
unspeakable  sadness. 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,"  and  the  American  passed  from 
English  to  Russian,  "  I  am  trying  to  understand  Nihilism, 
even  to  the  very  bottom.  Does  your  Majesty  object  ?  " 

"  You  are  an  American,"  was  the  reply,  in  the  same  lan 
guage  ;  "  but  you  do  so  at  your  peril !  " 

The  next  moment  the  Emperor  passed  out  at  the  other 
door. 

"  I  warn  you  again  not  to  go  with  me,"  was  all  the  ex 
planation  Henry  Harris  gave  his  companion.  "But  to 
morrow  I  go  to  Kiev.  I  want  to  get  through  with  this 
thing." 


314:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  LX. 

WOMAN'S  WIT. 

WHEN  the  American  and  his  friend  returned  to  their 
hotel  after  their  interview  with  the  Emperor,  they  found  let 
ters  awaiting  them. 

"  I  do  not  altogether  like  your  experiment  in  regard  to 
Nihilism,"  Mr.  George  Harris,  who  was  again  in  Paris,  wrote 
to  his  son,  "  and  yet  I  can  not  say  but  that  I  admire  your 
energy  in  the  matter.  Your  mother  and  myself  agree  that 
your  life  must  be  in  many  respects  unlike  mine.  I  have 
been  obliged  to  concentrate  myself  upon  my  business,  and 
in  doing  that  I  have  been  constrained  to  remain,  as  to  many 
matters,  merely  a  spectator.  There  are  things  in  Europe,  as 
in  America  also,  which  are  foolish,  silly,  even  pitiful,  in  their 
abject  folly.  The  dullest  machinist  would  be  an  idiot  to  tol 
erate  in  a  locomotive  any  defect  which  could  be  as  easily 
remedied  as  are  many  mistakes  in  the  working  of  our  civili 
zation.  Like  you,  I  have  chafed  at  the  horrible  forms  of 
wrong  which  have  come  down  from  barbarous  times,  but  I 
had  other  affairs  in  hand.  Thank  Heaven,  we  have  trained 
you  to  do  grander  work  than  I  could  ever  do,  and  that  in  a 
grander  time  than  the  days  in  which  your  mother  and  my 
self  have  lived.  We  will  leave  your  sister  and  yourself 
more  money  than  perhaps  you  have  supposed  would  come 
to  you.  Money  is  a  tremendous  force,  my  son.  It  is  more 
powerful  and  dangerous  than  dynamite  or  nitro-glycerine. 
If  you  do  not  expend  it  toward  honest  effort  for  the  good  of 
youi  kind,  it  will  recoil  and  in  some  way  blow  you  to  atoms. 
That  is  all  I  have  to  say.  Be  prudent.  Learn  all  you  can 
of  Russian  explosives.  Amazing  events  are  to  take  place  in 
that  empire." 

"I  am  glad,"  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  wrote  to  her  son, 
"  that  Mary  and  her  lover  seem  to  be  so  utterly  in  love  with 
each  other.  It  is  doing  her  a  world  of  good,  because  she  is 
possessed  with  the  purpose  of  being  more  than  merely  a  lov- 


WOMAN'S  WIT.  315 

ing  wife.  Your  father  was  laughing  at  her  last  night. 
'  From  whom  do  you  get  your  ambition  ? '  he  asked  her.  '  I 
am  an  American  girl,'  she  said,  '  and  I  intend  that  Alfred 
shall  become  a  leader  in  Parliament.  He  has  promised  me 
to  become  some  day  prime  minister  !  You  need  not  laugh,' 
she  added.  '  Look  at  Lord  Beaconsfield  !  All  that  lifts  him 
to  his  position  is  his  life-long  and  unconquerable  purpose. 
Alfred  is  superior  to  him  any  day,  and  even  if  he  were  not,  I 
will  be  with  him  as  his  undying  purpose.'  I  never  saw  her 
look  so  beautiful  as  when  she  said  that ! 

"  '  It  is  a  singular  thing  about  America,'  your  father  told 
me  when  she  left  us.  '  It  is  coming  to  be  what  the  Roman 
Empire  once  was.  That  is,  Rome  conquered  the  world  and 
drew  into  itself,  as  into  the  vortex  and  center  of  the  earth, 
all  races  of  men,  only  to  cause  them  to  rot  together  until  the 
whole  world  was  poisoned  by  the  deadly  corruption.'  In  the 
same  way  all  races  of  men  are  being  sucked  in,  as  if  in  spite 
of  themselves,  under  American  influence,  but  it  is  to  purify, 
I  hope,  and  save  them  ;  yet  I  do  not  want  Mary  to  become 
'  strong-minded,'  and  I  told  her  that  she  could  be  a  genuine 
American  woman  only  so  far  as  she  was  intensely  and  en 
tirely  a  woman,  and  in  no  sense  a  man.  Take  care  of  your 
self,  my  son,"  and  Mrs.  Harris  added  a  hundred  cautions. 

The  son  said  nothing  about  his  letters,  but  his  friend  was 
not  so  reticent.  "By  Jove  !  "  he  had  exclaimed  again  and 
again  as  he  read  a  letter  which  he  had  received  by  the  same 
mail  from  Mary,  "  there  is  a  page  or  two  which  is  none  of 
your  business,"  he  remarked  to  his  companion  when  he  had 
read  the  letter  over  once  or  twice,  "  but  listen  to  this,  will 
you  ?  "  and  he  read  : 

"  Yes,  Alfred,  I  am  only  a  girl,  but  I  am  in  good  earnest. 
You  are  a  nobleman  in  more  senses  of  the  word  than  one  ! " 
"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  her  lover  interjected.  "And  there  is  a 
glorious  future  before  me  if  I  am  ever  to  marry  you.  Be 
cause  you  are  to  accomplish  so  much  !  For  there  is  so  much 
to  be  done  in  the  world  !  Yesterday  my  father  said  to  me 
of  a  mob  of  Parisian  school-boys  which  happened  to  pass  us : 


316  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

'  Those  and  the  rest  of  the  French  boys  have  a  vast  work  to 
do  ;  they  have  to  hold  and  develop  the  French  Republic 
against  a  thousand  foes,  inside  and  out  !  The  work  of  the 
world  is  only  beginning,  my  dear.  Why,  Mary,'  he  said,  in 
his  calm,  methodic  way,  '  if  I  were  a  professor  in  college  I 
could  write  out  on  a  blackboard,  for  the  use  of  young  men, 
the  life-work  before  them.'  '  Write  it  out  for  me,'  I  begged, 
and,  sure  enough,  he  scratched  it  down  on  the  paper  I  in 
close." 

Lord  Conyngham  passed  the  document  to  his  friend.  It 
was  written  out,  the  American  saw  at  a  glance,  somewhat  as 
his  father  did  his  first  draughts  of  work  in  his  machine  shops, 
and  was  in  this  shape  : 

"  THE  WORK  OF  THE  WOKLD. 

"Africa. — Discover;  build  railroads  ;  send  missionaries  of  all  sects  ; 
found  and  build  up  Christian  nations. 

"Asia. — Obliterate  Turkisb  empire ;  ease  to  tbe  ground  the  impend 
ing  downfall  of  Persia,  China,  Afghanistan,  Thibet;  replace  Pal 
estine  in  possession  of  Jews ;  Christianize  the  whole. 

"Italy. — Maintain  unity  of  HlHan  kingdom  till  fit  for  republic ;  ease 
down  Papacy. 

"Russia. — Transform  empire  into  constitutional  monarchy ;  then 
monarchy  into  the  Kussian  republic;  repress  anarchy  during 
transition. 

"Germany. — Hasten  transformation  of  empire  into  republic  of  United 
States  of  Germany ;  revolutionize  excessive  use  of  beer,  tobacco, 
and  metaphysical  speculation. 

"France. — Educate  children  ;  separate  Church  from  State ;  maintain 
republic;  see  that  Napoleonism,  legitimacy,  ultramontanism, 
have  sure,  but,  if  possible,  peaceful  decay. 

"England. — Disestablish  Scotch  Church  ;  disestablish  English  Church ; 
abolish  primogeniture ;  smooth  the  way  for  the  inevitable  coming 
of  the  republic  of  Great  Britain." 

"  By  Jove  ! "  Lord  Conyngham  exclaimed,  and  his  friend 
read  on  : 

"America. — Establish  civil  service  reform  ;  bring  South  into  lines  of 
emigration  and  commerce  ;  guard  against  partisan  politics ;  pre- 


WOMAN'S  WIT.  317 

pare  to  meet  and  survive  unparalleled  trials,  perhaps,  and  catas 
trophes;  maintain  public  schools  against  all  foes;  develop  power 
of  press ;  compel  world  to  conform  to  American  example  by 
sheer  force  of  superiority. 

"Everywhere. — Perfect  electric  light  and  force  ;  heat  as  well  as  light 
every  city  from  a  common  center  within  same;  cook  and  wash 
also  at  same;  if  possible,  navigate  air;  cut  Isthmus  of  Panama; 
discover  and  invent  as  needs  of  men  demand;  abolish  war  and 
intemperance ;  reconcile  labor  and  capital. 

"  With  energy,  the  above  work  should  be  done  by  the  year  2000." 

"  It  is  odd,"  Henry  Harris  said,  as  he  laid  down  the  pa 
per,  "  but  the  year  2000  will  be  the  seventh  or  Sabbatical 
age  of  the  world.  It  will  be  a  remarkable  coincidence  if 
the  six  thousand  years  of  work  is  done  by  then." 

"  But  you  must  hear  what  Mary  says,"  her  lover  added, 
and  he  read  from  her  letter:  "Don't  think  me  a  fanatic. 
Who  can  tell  what  is  to  be  done  !  Whatever  it  is,  you  will 
do  your  share,  Alfred,  if  only  to  please  me  !  As  to  Eng 
land,  I  love  and  admire  it  almost  as  much  as  you  do,  be 
cause  you  were  born  there,  and  because  it  is  every  day 
more  and  more  one  with  America.  Yes,  it  is  older,  slower, 
wiser  than  we.  No  greater  poet  ever  lived,  Alfred,  than 
your  Laureate,  our  other  Alfred,  whom  I  love  almost  as 
much  as  I  do  you,  but  not  quite,  and  he  sings  of  it : 

"  'Land  of ju«t  and  old  renown, 

Where  freedom  broadens  slowly  down 

From  precedent  to  precedent, 
"Where  faction  seldom  gathers  head, 

But  by  degrees  to  fullness  wrought, 
The  strength  of  some  diffusive  thought 
Hath  time  and  space  to  work  and  spread.' " 

"  I  won't  read  any  more,"  the  Englishman  added,  as  he 
folded  the  letter  carefully  up,  and  placed  it  in  his  breast 
pocket.  "  There  is  more,  but 'that  also  is  nobody's  business 
but  ours.  The  only  thing  I  want  to  say  is,  that  your  sister 
is  the  noblest  as  well  as  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  know  ! 


318  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

But  if  we  are  to  start  for  Kiev  in  the  morning,  it  is  high  time 
we  were  going  to  bed.     Good  night." 

The  truth  is,  the  lover  wanted  to  be  off  by  himself,  in 
order  to  read  his  letter  over  again. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

THE  CKOWING  OF  THE  BED  COCK. 

FROM  his  boyhood  Henry  Harris  spent  much  of  his  Bpare 
time  in  his  father's  railway  shops  in  Russia.  Now,  a  strik 
ing  peculiarity  of  the  Russian  is  his  excessive  fondness  for 
children,  and  from  his  earliest  remembrance  Henry  found 
small  difficulty  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  workmen 
of  all  grades  employed  in  constructing  and  repairing  locomo 
tives.  Among  these  was  a  brawny,  red-headed  Russian, 
who  was  stone-deaf  to  any  question,  remark,  or  command 
unless  it  was  addressed  to  him  accompanied  by  his  full  name, 
which  was  Constantinovitch  Miralovinski  Stephanoff.  His 
face  had  been  sadly  damaged  by  an  explosion,  his  flannel 
and  sheepskin  attire  were  generally  odorous  with  lubricating 
oil,  and  he  seemed  to  wear  his  name  as  if  it  were  royal  and 
voluminous  raiment  which  made  up  for  all  deficiencies. 
Now,  Henry  Harris  had  long  known  that  this  man  was  deep 
in  the  secrets  of  the  Nihilists,  and,  addressing  him  by  his 
full  name  through  the  mail  before  leaving  Paris,  he  learned 
in  reply  that  he  was  now  engineer  upon  a  line  running  from 
St.  Petersburg  toward  Odessa.  It  was  from  him  in  person, 
and  after  arriving  in  St.  Petersburg,  that  Henry  Harris  ob 
tained  the  information  which  led  to  his  visit  to  the  Nihilist 
cafe  in  St.  Petersburg  the  night  the  spy  was  strangled. 
From  him  also  he  learned  that  there  was  to  be  "  a  Crowing 
of  the  Red  Cock,"  as  the  man  styled  it,  at  Kiev,  in  Little 
Russia,  at  a  certain  date  near  at  hand. 

"  Yes,"  the  American  said  to  him  ;  "  but,  Constantino- 


THE  CROWING   OF  THE  RED   COCK.  319 

vitch  Miralovinski  Stephanoff,  what  do  you  mean  by  the 
Red  Cock?" 

"My  little  father,  JBatushka,  if  you  and  your  friend," 
was  the  reply,  "  want  to  know,  you  can  read.  If  you  want, 
as  you  say,  to  see,  you  must  go  to  Kiev.  If  you  will  be  en 
gineer,  I  and  your  friend  will  be  your  firemen."  And  thus 
it  happened  that,  suitably  dressed,  with  Toffski  on  a  baggage- 
car,  the  friends  made  the  journey  upon  his  locomotive  as  far 
as  the  Russian  went.  At  this  point  he  gave  them  letters, 
passwords,  and  grips,  which  would  insure  them  access  at 
Kiev  to  all  they  would  like  to  see.  It  is  true,  the  man  was 
under  the  most  awful  oaths  to  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  but 
for  a  friend  like  Henry  Harris  he  would  have  done,  always 
provided  his  name  was  given  him  in  full,  much  more. 
"  Henry  Georgeovitch  Harrisinki,"  the  oily  and  ill-smelling 
engineer  said  in  parting,  "  you  may  be  going  to  your  death," 
and  he  kissed  him  fervently.  "  Constantinovitch  Miralovin 
ski  Stephanoff,  we  will  risk  it,"  was  the  reply.  Thus  it  was, 
within  a  few  weeks  after  leaving  St.  Petersburg,  the  Ameri 
can  and  his  English  friend  found  themselves  in  Kiev,  in  Lit 
tle  Russia.  They  were  now  dressed  as  moujiks,  and,  except 
that  they  were  taller,  seemed  duplicates  of  Toffski. 

"  I  can  understand  how  he  has  come  to  be  such  a  block  of 
wood,"  Lord  Conyngham  said  to  his  companions  one  night, 
as  all  three  strode  together  through  the  mire  of  the  unpaved, 
half -lighted  streets.  "In  such  an  atmosphere  of  brandy, 
blows,  gambling,  lying,  bribing,  ignorance,  a  man  must 
become  a  brute  if  he  is  to  escape  being  a  madman.  We  are 
centuries  behind  England  and  America  in  this  antediluvian 
region.  I  feel  as  if  it  would  take  me  a  lifetime  to  get  back 
to  Paris.  How  dark  it  is  ! " 

"  Yes,  and  windy.  That,"  said  the  American,  pointing 
to  a  building  which  loomed  through  the  darkness,  "  is  the 
beet-root  sugar-factory  ;  on  the  left  is  the  place  we  visited 
yesterday,  where  they  make  delft-ware.  This  building  which 
we  are  now  passing  is  one  of  the  innumerable  distilleries. 
Even  Toffski  has  told  you  that  vodka  and  usury  are  the  twin 


320  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

curses  of  Little  Russia.  Add  to  that  gambling,  conscription 
for  the  unceasing  wars — " 

"  And  superstition,"  the  nobleman  added,  as  they  passed 
a  church  towering  through  the  night. 

"  What  you  call  superstition  is  the  only  relief  to  absolute 
and  utter  brutality.  Better,"  his  companion  added,  "that 
worship  of  God  than  none  at  all !  But  it  will  be  like  going 
to  heaven  to  get  back  to  our  friends  again." 

"  I  know  at  least  one  angel  there  who  will  welcome  me," 
the  Englishman  thought,  but  said  nothing,  for  by  this  time 
they  had  turned  down  a  narrow  lane,  gone  through  a  stable, 
and  entered  a  sort  of  open  court  littered  with  straw,  deep  in 
manure,  and  having  horses,  cows,  oxen,  tethered  to  the  low 
stone  walls  by  which  it  was  surrounded.  There  must  have 
been  nearly  a  hundred  men  therein,  dressed  like  themselves, 
and  all  were  grouped  about  a  large  and  Tartar-visaged  man, 
with  small  eyes  and  flat  nose,  who  was  saying  something  to 
them  in  Little  Russian.  All  at  once  there  was  a  hush,  and  a 
small  man  in  a  corner  insisted  upon  being  heard.  He  spoke 
in  shrill  tones  and  eagerly.  After  him  another  spoke,  and 
then  another,  all  very  earnestly. 

"  What  is  it  all  about  ?  "  Lord  Conyngham  demanded. 
He  was  wedged  in  with  his  friend  and  Toffski  between  an  ox 
and  an  ass. 

"  They  speak  in  different  dialects,  and  I  do  not  under 
stand  it  perfectly,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  one  says  that  he 
wants  all  property  to  be  divided  ;  another  is  violent  against 
that,  and  wishes  a  monarchy  like  England  ;  the  last  man 
seems  to  be  enraged  against  religion  and  marriage."  A  tall, 
thin  man,  his  sinewy  face  illumined  by  the  light  of  the  lan 
terns  which  many  carried,  was  making  a  speech  with  much 
gesticulation  at  this  moment,  but  Henry  Harris  could  not 
understand  it,  and  asked  Toffski  what  he  was  saying.  The 
moujik  had  a  face  of  horror. 

"  He  says,"  and  the  man  began  crossing  himself,  "  that 
he  wants  the  blessed  saints  to  be  destroyed,  the  churches  to 
be  blown  up  with  powder,  the  Virgin,  the  Patriarch,  the  Em- 


THE  CROWING   OF  THE  RED   COCK.  321 

peror,  and  God  to  be  assassinated.  He  says  he  can  do  it 
himself.  BatushJca"  added  the  moujik,  "  let  us  go  away 
from  here  ;  this  is  hell !  " 

"  No  two  Nihilists  in  Russia  agree  as  to  what  they  want," 
the  American  explained  to  his  friend.  "  Listen,"  for  he  for 
got  that  the  other  could  not  understand.  "  Brethren  of 
light,"  the  burly  leader  was  exhorting,  "  all  that  will  follow 
in  due  time.  The  one  thing  in  which  we  are  now  agreed  is 
to  destroy  the  Empire.  Chaos  first,  then  cosmos  !  "  and  he 
recited  in  a  loud,  deep  voice  the  creed  of  Nihilism,  which 
was  as  follows  : 

"ARTICLE  1.  The  Nihilist  is  a  condemned  man.  He  can  have  no 
interests,  business,  feelings,  property,  or  even  a  name.  He  must 
absorb  all  in  one  sole  and  exclusive  interest,  in  one  single  idea  and 
passion — revolution. 

"  ART.  2.  He  must  break  every  bond  with  the  civil  order,  laws, 
customs,  and  moral  rules  of  civilization,  and  be  toward  the  world  a 
pitiless  enemy,  living  only  to  destroy. 

"  AET.  3.  He  must  renounce  all  doctrines  and  science,  save  that 
of  destruction. 

"  ART.  4.  He  must  neither  have  pity  nor  mercy  for  any  one;  nor 
must  he  expect  mercy  or  pity.  He  must  learn  to  endure  severity, 
and  be  severe  toward  all. 

"  ART.  5.  All  tender  feelings  of  family,  love,  friendship,  grati 
tude,  and  honor  must  often  be  stifled  in  his  breast  by  the  passion  for 
revolution — for  this  must  be  his  only  repose,  consolation,  recompense, 
and  satisfaction. 

"  ART.  8.  He  must  have  no  friends,  and  must  regard,  as  men,  only 
fellow-revolutionists. 

"  ART.  12.  If  a  companion  fall  into  misfortune,  it  becomes  a  ques 
tion  whether  or  not  he  shall  be  saved.  The  revolutionist  must  not 
consult  his  personal  feelings,  but  the  revolutionary  cause." 

At  the  conclusion  a  deep  "  Amen  !  "  broke  from  all  pres 
ent.  There  was  the  sullen  silence  after  that  as  of  a  gather 
ing  storm.  The  air  seemed  charged  with  hate  and  war  as  a 
cloud  is  with  electricity. 


322  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  is  a  professor  in  some 
college,  possibly  a  nobleman,"  the  American  explained,  as  he 
translated  in  a  whisper  to  his  companion.  "  Crouch  lower, 
my  lord,"  he  added,  suddenly  ;  "  I  fear  we  have  done  a  most 
foolish  thing  to  come  here  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a  hush  as  of  breathless  waiting,  then 
a  low  murmur  of  exultation  as  the  sky  over  the  open  court 
began  to  redden.  Next  a  word,  only  one,  was  spoken,  and, 
as  if  in  an  instant,  the  throng  had  dispersed  through  every 
opening,  and  the  three  men  were  left  alone. 

"  Heigh,  presto  !  But  what  does  that  mean  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  nobleman,  aloud,  as  he  came  out  from  among  the  cattle 
and  stretched  himself. 

"  It  means  fire,  my  lord,"  the  American  exclaimed.  "  The 
signal  has  been  given,  and  these  wretches  have  dispersed  to 
fire  the  city  in  as  many  places  as  possible.  That  is  the  Crow 
ing  of  the  Red  Cock,  then  !  I  was  a  fool  not  to  have  known 
of  it.  We  must  get  back  to  our  hotel  as  soon  as  we  can. — 
Toffski  Ivanovitch,  lead  on."  But  the  moujik  had  planted 
himself  like  a  log  before  them. 

"  No,  my  little  father,"  he  said,  "  the  streets  are  full  of 
troops  from  Odessa.  Listen  ! "  and  there  came  the  roll  of 
drums  and  occasional  shots  in  the  distance.  Then  the  ring 
ing  of  what  seemed  to  be,  one  after  another,  all  the  bells  of 
the  city  ;  then  the  galloping  of  horses,  the  rattle  of  wheels, 
and  loud  shouts  in  every  direction.  Meanwhile  the  sky  had 
grown  almost  as  bright  as  day. 

"  Yes,  our  best  plan  is  to  stay  here  for  the  present,"  the 
American  said.  "  If  we  go  out  we  are  almost  sure  to  be  shot 
down  by  the  patrol  or  the  troops,  or  at  least  arrested.  We 
will  wait  until  it  is  broad  day,  and  then  go  boldly  home." 

"  I  don't  object  to  a  lark,"  his  friend  said,  as  they  stood 
together,  "  but  when  I  get  out  of  this  I  will  consider  that  I 
have  graduated  in  Nihilism.  By  Jove  !  I  rather  like  it,  only 
I  hope  they  won't  nihiiize  me.  Not  that  I  object  particu 
larly  to  death,  but  I  do  to  Siberia.  Hallo  ! "  for  as  he  spoke 
a  man  ran  in,  kneeled  in  one  corner  among  the  straw  on  the 


THE  CROWING    OF  THE  RED   COCK.  323 

other  side  of  the  court,  and  was  in  the  act  of  striking  a  match 
in  it  when  the  moujik  hurled  himself  upon  him,  extinguish 
ing  the  flame  and  the  incendiary  at  the  same  moment.  The 
two  others  hastened  to  his  assistance.  As  they  did  so  a  girl 
stole  in  from  the  other  end  of  the  inclosure.  She  could  not 
have  been  twenty  years  of  age  ;  her  dress  was  kilted  about 
her  waist,  her  feet  were  bare,  her  long,  black  hair  had  broken 
loose  and  was  hanging  down  her  shoulders.  The  others  did 
not  observe  her  until  Lord  Conyngham,  glancing  around, 
saw  that  she  had  stuck  a  flaming  mass  of  burning  tow  into 
the  hay  heaped  upon  that  side,  and  before  he  could  get  to 
it  the  Avhole  place  was  in  a  blaze.  It  was  a  frightful  spec 
tacle.  Most  of  the  animals  were  tethered  to  their  troughs. 
Even  the  horses,  which  were  loose,  tore  around  and  around 
within  the  burning  inclosure,  too  panic-stricken  to  make  their 
escape  through  the  broad  and  open  doorways.  The  bellow 
ing  of  the  oxen,  the  furious  plunges  of  the  horses  were  ter 
rible,  and  the  unintending  conspirators  hastened  out,  the 
burning  fragments  of  straw  falling  upon  them  as  they  did  so. 

But  they  escaped  only  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  military 
squad  outside.  In  an  instant  they  found  themselves  grasped 
on  every  side  by  powerful  men.  Pistols  were  held  to  their 
heads,  bayonets  gleamed  about  them,  and  one  man,  the  cor 
poral  apparently,  repeated  the  same  phrase  over  and  over 
again. 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ? "  the  Englishman  asked, 
as,  after  struggling  in  vain  to  get  away,  he  submitted  with 
the  others,  and  they  were  being  rapidly  marched  off. 

"  He  says,  '  these  servants  of  God  are  caught  in  the  very 
act' ;  it  is  the  legal  phrase  of  indictment,"  his  friend  an 
swered. 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,  and,  by  Jove  !  they'll  be  made  to 
know  it,"  said  the  other. 

"  Unless  they  shoot  us  first.  Hark  ! "  for,  as  his  com 
panion  said  it,  above  the  clamor  of  the  bells,  the  rush  of 
wheels,  the  roar  of  flames,  making  the  scene  as  bright  as  day, 
could  be  heard  the  bugle-calls  of  cavalry,  the  rattle  of  drums, 


324:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

and  now  and  then  a  fusillade  of  small  arms.  Strange  to  say, 
the  spirits  of  the  young  men  rose  as  the  danger  became 
greater.  They  thought  of  those  far  away  who  would  be 
terrified  when  they  knew  of  the  danger  into  which  they 
were  entrapped,  and  yet  they  thought  even  of  that  with  a 
species  of  exhilaration,  and  almost  enjoyed  the  peril  of  the 
moment.  The  moujik  Toffski  had  disappeared.  At  first 
sight  of  the  soldiers  he  had  rushed  back  into  the  blazing 
building  behind  them.  Better  that  than  arrest.  "  He  ought 
not  to  have  abandoned  me,"  his  master  thought ;  "  but,  poor 
fellow,  he  has  perished  in  the  act.  He  thinks  that  the  fire  is 
better  than  the  ice  of  Siberia." 

There  was  no  time  for  regrets,  however.  The  building 
into  which  the  moujik  had  rushed  was  a  mass  of  flame,  and 
the  Cossacks  who  guarded  them,  black  and  bearded,  mere 
military  machines,  marched  the  American  and  his  companion 
in  their  center  so  rapidly  along  that  they  gasped  in  the 
stifling  air  for  breath.  At  one  time  they  were  rushed  yet 
more  rapidly  on  to  escape  the  walls  of  some  burned-out  build 
ing,  which  came  down  in  their  very  faces  with  a  crash. 
Now  they  were  thrown  to  the  earth  by  the  shock  of  an  ex 
plosion  near  by.  Once  or  twice  they  stepped  upon  the  bodies 
of  men  lying  in  pools  of  blood  where  they  had  been  shot. 
The  whole  city  seemed  to  be  on  fire.  As  they  rounded  a 
corner  through  the  crush  of  wagons  laden  with  household 
furniture,  of  men  and  women,  children  even,  forcing  their 
way  along,  bent  down  under  goods  which  they  had  stolen  or 
were  trying  to  save  from  the  wrecks  of  their  homes,  they 
were  almost  stunned  by  sudden  musketry.  As  soon  as  the 
blinding  smoke  lifted,  they  saw  a  line  of  men  and  women 
lying  dead,  or  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death,  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  a  rank  of  soldiers  before  a  massive  edifice. 
Upon  some  of  these  they  had  to  step  as  they  were  forced  on 
past  the  striped  sentry-boxes  of  the  prison,  for  such  it  was. 
Door  after  door  was  locked  upon  them,  and  at  last  the  two 
men  found  themselves  alone  in  a  species  of  loathsome  cellar 
with  grated  windows  and  dripping  walls  of  stone. 


THE   VOLTAIRE  AND   THE  CHRIST.  325 

"Well,"  Lord  Conyngham  remarked,  "Nihilism  means 
the  destruction  of  everything,  does  it  ?  Then  we  are  begin 
ning  to  understand  it  at  last.  But  why  didn't  they  shoot 
us?" 

"  Because,"  the  American  replied,  "  they  take  us  to  be,  as 
I  heard  them  say  to  each  other,  the  prime  leaders  of  the 
whole  affair.  As  it  is,  they  may  do  so  at  any  moment." 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

THE   VOLTAIRE   AND    THE    CHKIST. 

UPON  the  Rue  d'Hiver,  in  the  outer  suburbs  of  Paris 
toward  Versailles,  there  stands  an  odd  little  two-storied  house 
with  dormer  windows.  It  is  separated  from  the  street  by  a 
high  brick  wall,  guarded  along  the  slated  top  by  spikes, 
which  incloses  also  a  quarter  acre  of  ground  well  supplied 
with  trees,  flowering  plants,  summer  arbors,  and  fountains, 
with  statuary.  The  place  appeared,  at  the  time  now  spoken 
of,  to  have  nothing  whatever  in  common  with  the  nearest 
houses  on  either  side,  keeping  itself  to  itself  under  its  trees 
and  overhanging  roof,  like  a  surly  neighbor  who  folds  his 
arms  upon  his  breast,  draws  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  and 
has  not  a  syllable  to  say  to  anybody.  And  as  the  winters 
seemed  but  to  freeze  the  household  more  closely  in  from  the 
world,  so  the  summers,  as  they  came  and  went,  might  cause 
the  windows  of  the  house  and  the  leaves  of  the  trees  to  open, 
but  could  not  thaw  out  the  inhabitants,  who,  for  many  years 
now,  remained  the  same.  All  that  Zerat,  the  bald-headed 
little  cobbler  who  had  his  shop  near  by,  could  testify,  was 
that  there  lived  in  the  house  an  old  madame  who  came  out 
at  certain  regular  intervals  to  do  her  marketing,  attended  by 
an  aged  servant-woman  with  a  basket,  while  a  little  dog, 
black  and  fat,  invariably  accompanied  them  to  the  grated 
door,  but  was  always  locked  in  and  remained  whining  there 


326  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

until  the  women  toiled  slowly  back  with  their  purchases. 
Old  Zerat  told  people  who  loitered  in  his  shop,  waiting  for 
their  shoes  to  be  mended,  that  the  old  lady  was  named  Ma 
dame  Deschards,  her  servant  Gretchen,  the  dog  Pinquette. 

"Monsieur  arrives  every  afternoon  at  five,"  he  would 
add,  "evidently  from  Paris.  He  is  a  man  far  from  stout, 
and  looks  as  if  he  studied  hard  and  drank  deep.  Ciel!  what 
eyes  he  has  !  also,  what  a  forehead  !  Madame  is  in  waiting 
at  the  gate  to  admit  him,  as  is  Pinquette.  He  kisses  her, 
have  I  not  observed  it  ?  invariably.  Late  in  the  morning  he 
comes  out.  Madame,  who  seems  to  be  his  mother,  accompa 
nies  him  for  a  little  walk  if  the  weather  be  fine.  Monsieur 
knows  no  one,  speaks  to  no  one,  but  supports  her  footsteps 
carefully,  and  kisses  her  when  they  part.  He  is  a  good  son, 
although  he  may  also  be  a  mouchard,  a  counterfeiter,  a  col 
lege  professor,  or  a  member  of  the  Government — who  can  say 
what?" 

One  gloomy  evening  Achilles  Deschards,  for  it  was  none 
other,  sat  in  what  was  the  largest  and  best  room  of  the 
house.  Beneath  a  window  on  one  side  was  the  table  at 
which  he  always  worked.  It  was  littered  with  MSS.,  while, 
under  it,  and  as  if  trodden  contemptuously  down,  were 
journals,  reviews,  daily  papers  of  all  sorts — ultramontane, 
Napoleonist,  legitimist,  Orleanist,  republican,  communist, 
atheist — there  was  no  party  in  France  which  had  not  its 
representative  there — even  such  comic  sheets  as  "Figaro" 
and  the  "Journal  pour  Hire"  were  not  lacking.  A  close 
observer  would  have  been  astonished  at  the  almost  terrible 
mixture  of  the  same  kind,  upon  the  shelves  of  a  bookcase 
which  filled  two  sides  of  the  room.  The  leading  writers, 
past  and  present,  of  every  faction  which  agitates  the  soul 
and  tears  the  flesh  of  France,  crowded  each  other  upon  the 
boards — Voltaire  and  Chateaubriand,  Pascal  and  Liguori, 
Guizot  and  Thiers,  Dupanloup  and  About,  Balzac  and  Ma 
dame  Guy  on,  Lamartine  and  Alfred  de  Musset,  Buckle  and 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  Darwin  and  Cardinal  Manning.  One  re 
mained  amazed  that,  with  such  fierce  and  warring  antagonists 


THE  VOLTAIRE  AND   THE  CHRIST.  327 

brought  so  closely  together,  there  was  no  explosion.  Facing 
each  other,  like  the  leaders  of  the  opposing  hosts,  upon  iron 
brackets  fastened  to  opposite  sides  of  the  wall,  were  two 
busts.  One,  in  bronze,  appeared  to  be  that  of  Voltaire  or 
Satan,  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  ;  the  other,  of  white  marble, 
was  an  admirably  executed  head  of  Christ. 

The  owner  of  these  discordant  forces  had  taken  from 
the  lowest  shelf  of  his  bookcases  what  seemed  to  be  a  large 
Bible.  It  leaned  against  a  leg  of  his  table,  half  opened,  but 
was  really  no  book  at  all.  It  was  merely  a  case  instead, 
made  to  resemble  a  folio  book,  and  filled  with  liquors  of  vari 
ous  kinds  in  cut-glass  bottles.  Evidently  he  had  drawn 
much  of  his  inspiration  thence  while  he  wrote  during  the 
long  hours  of  the  night,  yet  it  was  as  evident  that  he  had 
thus  arranged  matters  in  order  to  deceive  some  one  who 
lived  in  the  house  and  was  closely  associated  with  him.  But 
he  had  not  been  drinking  of  late.  Pallid  and  haggard  as 
was  his  face,  that  was  evident.  He  had  been  writing,  and 
the  MS.,  neatly  folded,  tied  about  with  tape,  and  directed 
upon  the  back,  lay  upon  the  table.  The  man  seemed  to  be 
absorbed  in  thought.  Once  he  arose,  walked  to  and  fro, 
looked  at  his  watch,  then  out  of  the  front  window,  lifting 
the  curtain  to  do  so.  After  that  he  unlocked  what  seemed 
to  be  a  secret  drawer,  and  took  out  two  small  boxes.  One 
was  full  of  gold  coin,  and  he  counted  them  carefully  over 
and  put  the  box  on  the  table  beside  the  document.  Then  he 
opened  the  other  box  with  a  smile  which  was  ghastlier  than 
tears.  It  was  filled  with  what  seemed  to  be  wafers  or  loz 
enges,  and  he  put  one  to  his  lips,  as  if  to  taste  it,  but  re 
frained  with  a  laugh,  placed  it  back,  and  shut  the  box  and 
let  it  lie.  He  glanced  again  at  his  watch,  walked  once  more 
to  the  window,  and  looked  out.  Through  the  tops  of  the 
trees  and  over  the  wall,  he  could  catch  glimpses  of  people 
going  this  way  and  that,  of  vehicles  driven  up  and  down. 
"Rats,"  he  said  aloud,  "mice,  beetles,  lice  !  "  and  he  turned, 
lit  a  student-lamp  on  the  mantel,  and  sat  down. 

But  there  was  the  sound  of  scratching  and  whimpering  at 


328  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

the  door.  "  Pinquette,"  he  said,  and  opened  it  to  let  in  a 
little  black  dog,  almost  too  fat  to  move,  looking  more  like  a 
leech  than  a  quadruped.  It  seemed  to  be  very  old,  too,  for 
it  waddled  slowly  into  the  room,  and,  when  the  man  sat 
down  again  near  his  table,  it  squatted  between  his  feet  upon 
the  floor,  looked  up  at  him  with  filmy  but  inquiring  eyes, 
made  an  abortive  effort  to  wag  its  tail,  and  whined  uneasily 
like  a  sick  child.  Then  it  got  up,  walked  with  difficulty  into 
an  alcove  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  apartment,  slipped  under 
the  curtain  which  partitioned  it  off,  and  began  such  an  out 
cry  of  barking  and  whining  that  the  man  arose  and  followed 
it.  Looping  up  the  curtain  so  that  the  light  from  the  lamp 
could  fill  the  alcove,  he  stood  over  a  bedstead  upon  which 
lay  something  covered  up.  Pinquette,  by  a  desperate  effort, 
had  lifted  itself  up,  its  forepaws  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed 
stead,  and  was  actually  weeping  as  it  whimpered. 

"  Yes,  Pinquette,  she  is  dead,"  the  man  said,  and  he 
turned  down  the  sheet,  and  revealed  the  face  of  his  old  mo 
ther.  As  is  often  the  case,  even  with  the  aged,  the  cold, 
white  countenance  of  Madame  Deschards  had  taken  on  again 
what  must  have  been  the  aspect,  almost  the  beauty,  of  her 
girlhood.  Isidore  Atchison  had  been  startled  at  the  picture 
her  father  had  painted  from  memory  of  the  Delira  of  his 
early  manhood.  Merely  as  a  painting,  it  was  his  master 
piece,  a  work  of  which  the  greatest  artist  might  have  been 
proud,  because  Memory  had  taken  the  brush  softly  from  the 
enfeebled  hand  of  Age,  and  had  produced  the  girl  as  she  was 
when  the  artist  had  first  known  her,  in  her  wild  home  among 
the  mountains  of  Virginia.  Save  that  color  was  lacking, 
here  was  Delira  once  more  in  the  white  clay  of  the  original 
master,  a  clay  which  was,  alas  !  so  soon  to  be  dust.  In  the 
picture  of  Zerah  Atchison,  the  vigorous  girl,  lawless,  unedu 
cated,  governed  purely  by  passion,  almost  stepped,  in  the 
eagerness  of  a  deer-like  vigor,  from  the  painter's  canvas  ; 
but  in  this  case  she  lay  sleeping  instead,  as  she  used  to  do  in 
her  cabin,  ah,  how  many,  many  years  before  !  She  must 
have  had  more  in  her  than  merely  a  passionate  devotion  to 


THE  VOLTAIRE  AND  THE  CHRIST.  329 

this,  her  only  son  ;  hers  must  have  been  a  character  also  to 
awaken  unusual  love  in  return.  There  must  have  been  in 
her  an  original  flavor  of  her  wild  country  home,  a  something 
both  peculiar  and  essential  to  her,  like  the  sassafras  and  pine 
of  her  native  mountains.  This  old  mother  was  all  Des- 
chards  had  on  earth,  all  he  had  worked  for  so  long  and  vig 
orously.  And  yet,  as  he  spread  the  cover  again  over  her 
face,  he  merely  repeated  what  he  had  said  as  he  looked  out 
of  the  window  at  the  people  passing. 

"  We  are  all  the  same,  and  she  also  !  "What  else  are  we 
but  beetles,  mice,  the  moths  of  the  moment  ?  " 

As  he  took  his  seat  again,  the  dog  lying  between  his  feet, 
in  sheer  lack  of  anything  else  to  do,  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the 
bust  of  Voltaire  upon  its  bracket  against  the  wall  upon  his 
left.  The  bracket  might  have  supported  a  mirror  instead, 
which  reflected  his  own  face,  so  wonderfully  like  his  own 
was  that  of  the  brilliant  philosopher  of  Ferney — the  fore 
head,  high  but  narrow,  the  face,  thin  and  haggard,  the  lips, 
whose  very  smile  was  a  sneer,  the  large  eyes,  through  which 
the  eager  but  eternal  unrest  looked  forth.  There  was  strong 
likeness,  but  no  love  between  the  two. 

"  I  know  by  heart,  Voltaire,  all  you  have  to  say,"  the 
man  murmured  at  last.  "  You  were  very  much  of  a  genius, 
but  you  had  no  sincere  love  even  for  yourself.  Of  all  men, 
you  despised  yourself  most  heartily,  even  while  you  had  no 
other  god.  And  you  also,  you  poor  Arouet,  you  called  your 
self  Voltaire,  but  that  did  not  make  you  any  the  less  a  rat,  a 
mouse,  a  fly  ;  yes,  a  fly  with  a  sting,  not  a  bee,  only  a  hor 
net.  You  buzzed  and  you  stung  until  all  Europe  knew  your 
buzz  and  your  sting,  and  then  you  too  dropped  into  the  dust 
dead.  But  yow,"  and  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  head  of 
the  Christ  ;  "  you  I  can  not  make  out  !  I  wonder  how  men 
got  it  into  their  heads  that  you  once  lived.  You  also  are 
dead.  The  priests  say  you  rose  again  ;  but  they  are  such 
liars  !  I  wish  I  knew  you,  could  come  at  you,  could — "  And 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  marble  face  with  a  wistful  look. 

As  he  sat,  the  door-bell  rang.  *  He  was  expecting  it,  and 


330  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

arose,  went  out,  and  returned,  ushering  in  no  less  a  person 
than  M.  Portou,  the  Jesuit  anatomist. 

"  Don't  tread  on  my  dog,"  he  exclaimed,  with  sudden 
irritation,  as  the  other  laid  aside  his  hat  and  wrappings  and 
took  a  seat.  "  Pinquette  !  Pinquette  ! "  and  he  stooped 
down  and  patted  the  old  dog  upon  its  head.  It  looked  up 
at  him  with  a  loving  eye,  acknowledged  the  caress  with  its 
tail,  but  seemed  too  lazy  to  do  more. 

"And  so  your  mother  is  dead,"  the  visitor  remarked, 
with  a  singular  blending  of  condolence  and  austere  coldness, 
as  of  a  man  who  was  visiting  him  under  protest. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Jesuit"  the  other  said,  "  with  myriads 
of  moths,  bats,  butterflies,  kings,  cats,  queens,  sheep,  forest- 
leaves,  and  flowers,  my  mother  is  gone.  We  all  drop  back 
into  the  dust,  you  observe.  Old  Gretchen  was  a  good  soul," 
he  added  to  his  visitor,  as  he  lifted  the  poodle  in  his  arms. 
"  She  loved  us,  and  made  mayonnaise  of  chicken  better  than 
any  servant  I  know.  Her  cafe  au  lait  was  excellent,  and 
she  went,  as  you  are  shocked  to  know,  with  my  mother  to 
the  Protestant  church."  He  arose,  took  the  dog,  laid  it  on 
the  foot  of  the  bed  in  the  alcove,  and  returned  and  sat  down 
again.  His  visitor  had  been  speaking  meanwhile  to  him,  but 
he  paid  no  attention. 

"  Last  week  I  sat  beside  Gretchen,"  he  now  added.  "  I 
said  to  myself,  '  Here  is  a  human  being  I  will  watch  closely, 
with  scientific  vigilance,  to  see  if  I  can  detect  any  difference 
between  hers  and  the  death  of,  let  us  say,  a  rabbit.'  My 
mother  was  too  weak  to  be  with  her,  but  I  waited  on  Gret 
chen,  did  what  she  wished.  I  read  her  Bible  to  her,  I  heard 
what  she  had  to  say.  She  was  peaceful.  I  had  no  idea  a 
Savoyard  cook  could  talk  as  she  did.  The  poor  woman  was 
feeble,  but  very  eloquent.  You  would  have  despised  her  be 
lief,  for  you  are  a  Jesuit.  At  least,  she  was  very  happy. 
She  truly  believed  that  she  was  going  to  heaven.  People 
are  not  as  sincere  in  the  shop,  the  ballroom,  the  Cham 
ber  of  Deputies,  as  she  was  then.  But  I  did  not  listen. 
You  observe,  sir,  I  wanted  to  see  if  there  is  any  difference 


THE   VOLTAIRE  AND  THE  CHRIST.  331 

in  dying  between  the  human  being  and  the  merely  animal. 
My  finger  was  on  her  pulse  as  it  fluttered,  feebler  and  fee 
bler.  Her  lips  ceased  to  whisper  her  prayers.  But  her  eyes, 
life  lingered  in  them.  They  were  fastened  upon  me,  for  she 
loved  me  since  I  was  a  boy.  I  bent  over  and  watched  the 
life — no,  I  mistake,  it  was  the  love  which  lingered  in  them  ! 
It  slowly  died  out,  as  fire  does  in  an  ember,  and  she  was 
dead.  What  is  the  difference  ?  None  at  all.  The  verdure 
dying  from  an  aspen-leaf  until  it  is  utterly  sere  and  wilted 
and  falls  to  the  earth,  the  breath  ceasing  just  now  from  the 
nostrils  of  my  mother,  a  snowflake  melting,  a  gnat  ceasing 
to  move — it  is  the  same  with  us,  one  and  all." 

The  Jesuit  crossed  himself  and  engaged,  as  he  sat  with 
closed  eyes,  in  silent  prayer.  He  had  discussed  matters  too 
often  with  Deschards  ;  what  good  could  it  do  to  talk  ? 

"  The  only  thing  I  believe  in,"  Deschards  began  again, 
"  is  love  !  That  is  why  I  wrote  to  you  to  come.  I  don't 
believe  in  your  Church,  my  poor  Portou.  The  reverse  !  But 
I  saw  that  you  loved  the  wife  who  had  betrayed  and  fled 
from  you.  Do  I  not  know  how  you  gave  up  all  to  follow 
her,  to  save  her,  as  you  call  it  ? " 

"  I  love  my  order,"  said  the  Jesuit  ;  "  the  Church  is  more 
to  me  than  my  wife  ever  was.  For  it  I  would  gladly  die." 

"It  is  so  odd,"  Deschards  reflected  aloud.  "This  man 
actually  believes  in  his  Church,  when,  as  all  history  teaches, 
no  organization  since  history  began  is  so  stained  with  igno 
rance,  brutal  oppression,  foul  corruption.  Its  inquisitions,  St. 
Bartholomews,  Armadas,  wars  of  Alva,  this  man,  he  swal 
lows  it  all  !  He  believes  in  infallibility,  yet  Pope  Honorius 
was  condemned  for  heresy  by  a  council  of  his  own  Church, 
and  Pius  IX  desired  to  recognize  the  Southern  Confederacy 
of  Jeff  Davis.  This  man  believes  in  his  order,  yet  has  it 
been  driven  out  of  every  land  as  the  most  devilish  of  all  so 
cieties  !  Yet  he  so  believes  in  as  actually  to  love  these — 
brutalities.  No,  my  poor  Portou,  I  can  not  believe  in  your 
love  for  your  order,  your  Church.  As  to  that  you  are  insane. 
But  your  love  for  your  wife  I  do  believe  in.  Therefore  I 


332  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

sent  for  you.  The  Protestant  minister  who  buried  Gretchen 
comes  to-morrow  to  bury  my  mother  also.  He  will  find,  if  I 
should  not  be  here,  in  this  paper  on  the  table,  all  I  wished  to 
say  ;  in  this  drawer,  the  money  necessary.  But  you,  and  be 
cause  you  loved  your  wife,  I  wanted  to  see — I  wanted  to 
ask—" 

"  You  are  in  danger  of  damnation  ;  I  would  save  your 
soul  if  I  could.  If  you  would  but  hear  me,"  the  Jesuit  be 
gan,  as  the  other  ceased  to  speak. 

"  My  friend,"  the  other  interrupted  him,  "  according  to 
you,  Gretchen  and  my  mother  are  damned  already.  They 
alone  loved  me.  Out  of  all  the  world,  they  only  have  I 
found  to  be  good  and  true.  Let  me  be  damned  with  them  ; 
have  that  kindness,  if  you  will  be  so  good.  As  to  your  or 
der,  your  Church,  no,  M.  Portou  !  Do  I  not  already  know 
all  you  would  say  ?  You  would  have  to  take  my  brain  out 
first,  and  twist  it  around.  Before  then  I  would  have  to  for 
get  all  history.  When  I  can  believingly  say  twice  two  are  ten, 
you  can  convince  me  ;  until  then,  no,  my  friend,  no,  no  !  " 

"And  is  there  anything  left  you  but  despair  ?  "  the  Jesuit 
demanded. 

"Very  true.  I  have  read  everything,  have  defended 
everything,  have  attacked  everything.  No,"  Deschards  said, 
"  I  do  not  deny  it.  Schopenhauer  says  it,  Hartmann  repeats 
it,  existence  is  misery  insufferable.  Two  thousand  years 
ago,  the  intelligent  Hindoos  discussed  it  to  rags.  Life  is 
not  worth  living.  Man's  highest  expectation  is  for  Nirvana, 
annihilation.  You  are  right.  We  are  but  as  bugs,  vermin, 
toads,  lizards  ;  we  live,  we  know  nothing,  we  die.  Alexan 
der  von  Humboldt  knew  everything,  traveled  everywhere, 
and  he  says  :  '  Happy  is  he  who  was  born  a  Flat  Head  ! ' 
Extinction  is  man's  only  hope." 

The  head  of  the  man  sank  upon  his  bosom.  But  the 
Jesuit  softly  began  to  speak.  He  told  of  the  necessity  of  a 
Creator,  Preserver,  Ruler,  Judge.  That  it  was  reasonable 
this  God  should  give  to  men  a  revelation.  So  far  the  other 
hearkened,  but  when  the  Jesuit  added  that  of  this  revela- 


THE   VOLTAIRE  AND   THE  CHRIST.  333 

tion  the  Catholic  Church  is  the  sole  keeper  and  teacher,  he 
broke  out  violently  : 

"  No,  no  !  if  God  can  feed  me  only  out  of  a  platter  as 
filthy  as  that,  then  must  I  starve  !  " 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  send  for  me  ?  "  the  Jesuit  demand 
ed,  angrily,  rising  to  his  feet. 

The  eyes  of  his  companion  ;were  fastened  upon  the  head 
of  the  Christ. 

"  Gretchen  told  me,"  he  began,  "  my  mother  said  to  me 
when  I  was  a  child  and  since —  My  friend,"  he  added,  inter 
rupting  himself,  and  with  a  species  of  dignity,  "  I  sent  for 
you  because  I  thought  you  might  forget  your  accursed 
Church  for  a  little  and  tell  me  about  him."  The  gaze  of  the 
despairing  man  lingered  upon  the  face  of  the  marble  Christ. 
"  If  I  had  any  political  belief,"  he  said,  "  it  is  in  the  Repub 
lic.  Now,  in  America  alone  does  the  Republic  really  exist, 
and  America  is  Protestant.  Here  in  France  it  is  not  the 
ultramontanes  who  love  liberty.  What  care  I  for  Protes 
tant  any  more  than  Catholic,  except  as  I  see  that  in  Catholi 
cism,  men  like  you  thrust  yourselves  between  me  and  the 
man  of  Nazareth  more  than  is  permitted  among  Protestants  ? 
As  to  the  Huguenots,  there  is  this  good  in  them,  as  I  under 
stand  it — so  it  is  in  England,  in  America — people  take  their 
filthy  hands,  their  thick  heads,  their  hard  hearts  and  foul 
souls  out  of  the  way.  People  ?  do  any  of  them  know,  of 
themselves,  anything  more  than  I  do,  poor  devil  that  I  am  ? 
To  the  gutter  with  Catholic  and  Protestant !  What  I  wanted 
was  to  get  to  Christ  by  myself,  for  myself.  I  have  a  terri 
ble  deal  to  tell  him,  if  I  thought  he  was  a  living  person  and 
.would  hear  me." 

"  The  Son  of  Mary  saves  only  in  and  by  and  through  his 
Church,"  the  other  interrupted,  and  proceeded  to  talk  upon 
that  theme.  He  spoke  in  a  low  and  gentle  voice,  but  it  was 
no  more  to  the  other  than  the  purring  of  a  cat.  With  his 
eyes  upon  the  floor,  he  sat  as  if  listening  for  a  long  time,  but 
when  the  other  demanded  something  of  him  at  last,  he  looked 
at  him  with  surprise. 


33±  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  I  had  forgotten  your  existence,"  he  said.  "  Many  thanks, 
M.  Portou,  but  you  are  merely  a  poor  ignorant  fool  like  my 
self.  I  had  hoped  you  could  have  led  me  to — to  somebody 
higher  than  either  of  us,"  and  his  haggard  eyes  were  lifted 
despairingly  to  the  marble  countenance  above  him. 

Without  saying  another  syllable,  the  Jesuit  crossed  him 
self,  went  slowly  out,  descended  the  stairway,  and  Deschards 
heard  the  door  close  behind  him  without  moving. 

"  Alone  at  last,  utterly  alone,"  he  said.  "  No,"  he  added, 
in  a  dull  way,  after  a  while  ;  "  I  hear  Pinquette." 

The  dog  was  whining,  from  where  it  lay  at  the  feet  of 
the  dead  woman.  It  was  cold.  The  brilliant  writer  arose, 
took  the  animal  in  his  arms  as  tenderly  as  he  would  have 
done  a  babe,  and  sat  down  with  it  upon  his  knees. 

"  There  are  only  two  of  us  now,  Pinquette,"  he  said,  and 
he  stroked  the  black  face  of  the  old  poodle  as  it  looked  up 
at  him  and  whimpered.  "  They  were  women,  and  this  is 
only  a  cur,"  Deschards  reflected,  as  he  looked  intently  in  the 
eyes  which  were  fastened  upon  his,  "and  yet  here  is  the 
same  thing  we  call  love.  Love  !  What  is  love  ?  Who 
knows  ?  I  do  not.  Love,  love,  love  !  "  His  gaze  was  riveted 
upon  the  expression  of  this,  in  the  filmy  organs  which  looked 
up  at  him. 

"  They  are  growing  dim  and  dimmer,  but  it  is  love,  still 
love,  only  love.  Yes,  dimmer  and  dimmer,"  he  murmured. 
"  They  are  gone  out  !  No,  a  flickering  spark  rekindles  ;  it 
also  is  love,  only  love  !  "  But  he  sat  for  some  time,  the  dog 
in  his  arms,  before  he  arose.  "  Gone  out  for  good,  but  it  was 
to  the  last — love!"  Saying  this,  he  laid  the  dead  animal 
tenderly  upon  the  rug,  drew  on  his  coat,  took  it  again  in  his 
arms,  carried  it  down  stairs  and  out  into  a  hidden  corner  of 
his  garden,  and  buried  it. 

"  And  now  I  am  alone,"  he  said,  when  he  had  returned. 
"  What  does  it  matter  ?  It  is  with  me  also  as  with  the  rest. 
Frogs,  bats,  lice,  lions,  dogs,  eagles,  mites  in  a  cheese,  in 
fusoria  in  a  drop  of  dirty  water — we  are  all  alike."  He 
glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was  near  daybreak,  and  it  had  run 


THE   VOLTAIRE  AND   THE  CHRIST.  335 

down.  "And  it  also  !  "  It  was  all  he  said.  Then  he  opened 
and  read  over  the  document  upon  the  table,  and  placed  the 
box  of  coin  beside  it. 

"  They  will  be  here  in  a  few  hours,"  he  said.  Then  he 
took  out  the  box  containing  the  wafers. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  but  know  you  !  "  he  groaned,  his  dull  eyes 
lingering  upon  the  sculptured  face  of  the  marble.  "  If  you 
were  not  a  myth,  but  a  living  person."  He  turned,  he  was 
about  to  fall  upon  his  knees.  As  he  did  so,  he  caught  sight 
of  the  scoffing  lips  of  Voltaire.  The  bronze  seemed  almost 
alive,  its  eyes  were  lurid,  its  mouth  almost  spoke. 

"Yes,  oh,  yes,"  he  said,  we*arily.  Then  he  crossed  the 
room,  the  box  in  his  hand,  blew  out  his  lamp,  went  to  the 
bed  on  which  his  dead  mother  lay.  Turning  the  cover  gently 
down,  he  crept  to  her  side,  slipped  the  wafers  into  his  mouth, 
laid  his  head  upon  her  bosom. 

"  Rats,  mice,"  he  whispered  ;  "  oxen,  moths,  the  Christ, 
too,  love 'itself,  we  are  all  alike  !  Death  is  the  end  to  all." 

A  moment  after  profound  silence  had  fallen  upon  the 
house.  Outside  was  the  roll  of  early  wheels,  the  sound  of 
feet  and  of  voices,  as  men  and  man-like  women  hastened  to 
their  daily  toil.  A  child  sang  as  it  went,  the  hucksters  be 
gan  to  cry  their  fish  and  fruit,  now  and  then  came  a  laugh 
as  the  world  rapidly  awakened.  But  the  trees  clustered,  as 
it  were,  more  closely  about  the  house,  the  birds  chirped  upon 
its  roof  in  cautious  ways,  the  building  seemed  to  draw  itself 
more  apart  from  the  houses  to  the  right  hand  and  the  left. 

"  Mon  Dieu  ! "  the  bald  -  headed  cobbler  said,  as  he 
slouched  by  to  his  shop  from  buying  a  few  sous'  worth  of 
onions  and  mutton.  "This  house, del!  how  it  resembles  a 
tomb!  But  what  matters  it  to  thee,  Jules  Zerat  ?  In  twenty 
minutes  thou  shalt  taste  thy  ,soup." 

15 


336  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

THE    LAST   DATS    OF   THE    EXPOSITION. 

THE  French  Exposition  was  drawing  to  a  close  ;  the 
chestnut  foliage  on  the  Champs  Elysees  was  assuming  its 
russet  robes  under  the  October  frosts  ;  the  garden  fetes  were 
withdrawn  into  the  great  halls  of  the  city  ;  the  splendors  of 
the  Jardin  Mabille  were  chilled  by  the  searching  rains  ;  and 
there  were  visible  preparations  for  a  long  winter  campaign. 
A  winter  in  London  is  denounced  as  a  season  of  fog  and 
drizzle  and  storm,  and  there  are  weeks  and  months  of  un 
speakable  gloom ;  and  Paris  is,  outwardly,  as  inhospitable 
as  the  shrouded  British  capital :  but  then  it  must  be  remem 
bered  that,  as  Paris  is  a  paradise  in  spring  and  summer  and 
autumn,  London,  most  cheerless  in  its  wintry  streets,  is  a 
perfect  saturnalia  of  inside  luxury.  The  English  are  accus 
tomed  to  rains  and  fogs,  and,  as  they  never  suffer  from  our 
severe  American  cold,  they  enjoy  the  rich  comforts  of  their 
homes.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  French.  They  are  unpre 
pared  for  a  severe  December  or  January,  with  their  scarcity 
of  fuel,  their  unsatisfactory  stoves,  and  their  out-of-door 
habits  ;  and  so  those  who  can  rush  to  the  South  of  France, 
to  Nice,  and  Cannes,  and  Hyeres,  and  Monte  Carlo,  and 
Mentone,  and  the  soft  and  salubrious  vicinity  of  Bay  Na- 
poule.  Paris,  in  these  two  months,  is  often  as  repellent  as 
St.  Petersburg  ;  not  so  entombed  in  snow  nor  so  monumen 
tal  in  ice,  but  hard  upon  the  poor,  thousands  of  whom  have 
no  place  in  which  to  shelter,  no  home  in  which  to  hide,  and 
often  no  occupation  for  their  desperate  hands.  And  now 
that  winter  is  at  their  doors,  and  the  fine  republican  show  of 
the  Exposition  is  being  dismantled,  they  would  be  objects  of 
pity  indeed  if  the  Republic  had  not  provided  them  cheap 
amusements  within  walls,  and  if  they  had  not  acquired  the 
habit  of  making  a  little  food  go  very  far. 

One  night  Mrs.  George  Harris,  not  having  heard  as  yet 
of  the  peril  to  which  her  son  and  his  companion  were  ex- 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION.        337 

posed  in  Russia,  had  a  large  party  at  the  Hotel  Bristol,  in 
cluding  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  all  nations.  The  American 
manufacturer  was  a  royal  host.  Pie  had  not  lived  in  St.  Pe 
tersburg  so  many  years  without  acquiring  the  tastes  of  high 
society,  and  understood  the  art  of  entertainment  as  well  as 
he  did  the  science  of  practical  engineering.  He  had  gone 
back  from  Russia  after  the  rebellion  broke  out,  and  had 
thrown  his  whole  soul  into  the  Union  side,  not  as  a  parti 
san,  but  as  a  patriot.  His  early  years  had  been  lived  in  Bal 
timore,  and  he  never  was  what  might  be  called  an  abolition 
ist.  He  loved  the  South  only  less  than  the  Union,  and  la 
bored  long  and  vainly  to  dissuade  it  from  rebellion  ;  and 
when  at  last  his  Southern  friends  insisted  upon  secession, 
even  as  he  gave  his  money  and  his  counsel  to  the  side  of  the 
Government,  he  always  cherished  the  hope  that  they  would 
finally  be  induced  to  return  to  their  allegiance. 

The  Hotel  Bristol  is  in  the  magnificent  Place  Yendome, 
with  the  tall,  gorgeous,  carved  column,  covered  with  bas-re 
liefs  representing  the  victories  of  the  first  Napoleon,  in  the 
center  ;  and  on  this  gala  night  the  superb  square  blazed  with 
a  rare  effulgence.  It  was  a  glorious  evening,  and  the  scene 
was  worthy  of  the  host  and  of  the  country.  George  Harris 
was  a  generous  patron  of  the  arts,  at  home  and  abroad,  and 
had  given  much  time  to  the  American  Department  in  the 
French  Exhibition.  His  great  business  operations  brought 
him  in  contact  with  official,  financial,  aesthetic,  and  fashion 
able  society,  and  the  company  that  flocked  to  his  wife's  levee 
included  the  men  and  women  of  all  these  circles.  The  Ho 
tel  Bristol  was  also  the  home  of  the  British  heir-apparent, 
whose  long  suite  of  rooms  flanked  the  north  side  of  the 
Place  Vendome,  and  whose  little  court  could  enjoy  the  spec 
tacle  of  the  American  carnival  from  their  great  windows 
overlooking  the  square.  Beyond  the  British  Plenipotentiary 
to  France,  Lord  Lyons  and  his  legation,  there  were  no  offi 
cial  English  among  the  guests.  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris  shared 
with  her  husband  a  great  unspoken  contempt  for  the  Ameri 
can  snobbery  that  too  often  sighs  for  royal  recognition. 


338  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

She  held,  as  he  did,  that  Americans  owed  nothing  but  ordi 
nary  civility  to  these  dynasties,  which  had  done  their  work 
and  were  outliving  their  era.  The  sight  of  an  American 
lady  or  gentleman  proffering  incense  to  the  scions  of  royalty, 
either  in  America  or  in  foreign  countries,  was  simply  dis 
gusting  ;  and  as  this  incense  is  always  laughed  at  by  those 
who  receive  it,  when  they  are  alone,  the  practice  assumes 
the  aspect  of  degrading  servility.  But  the  republican  lady 
of  the  great  millionaire  and  manufacturer  had  no  lack  of 
sovereigns  at  her  reception,  sovereigns  of  learning  and  ge 
nius,  the  princes  of  the  academies,  the  chiefs  of  the  Cabinet, 
the  leaders  of  the  Assembly,  the  press,  the  stage,  even  the 
ancien  regime,  and  of  course  the  architects  of  the  Republic, 
including  the  best  culture  of  the  Americans  still  lingering 
in  Paris  to  see  the  close  of  the  Exhibition. 

In  the  lighted  space  outside  thousands  of  spectators  had 
gathered  to  see  the  arriving  and  departing  celebrities.  There 
was  no  confusion  or  indecorum.  The  Marshal-President  had 
sent  a  detachment  of  his  guard,  handsome  young  Frenchmen, 
to  preserve  order,  but  their  presence  rather  added  to  the  ele 
gance  of  the  pretty  pageant  than  to  the  order  of  an  occasion 
made  peaceful  by  the  respect  of  the  republican  people  of 
Paris.  These  people  knew  that  they  looked  upon  the  hospi 
tality  of  an  American,  that  the  wife  of  the  late  President  of 
the  United  States  was  the  principal  lady  of  the  evening,  and 
so  they  honored  the  occasion  as  a  tribute  to  their  Republic. 
The  Prince  of  Wales  could  not  fail,  in  his  frequent  visits  to 
the  French  Exhibition,  to  ponder  upon  these  lessons.  He 
came  almost  weekly  to  the  gay  capital.  The  splendors  of 
the  Trocadero,  and  the  richer  temple  of  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
were  enhanced  by  his  own  contributions,  and  his  India  House, 
like  the  costly  boudoir  which  he  now  and  then  occupied  with 
Alexandra,  his  Danish  queen,  were  something  more  than  con 
cession  to  the  spirit  of  neighborhood ;  they  meant  deference 
to  the  improvement  of  the  masses,  to  the  success  of  the  Re 
public,  to  coming  democratic  empire  in  Great  Britain,  and, 
perhaps,  at  the  same  time,  a  protest  against  the  too  promi- 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION.        339 

nent  and  offensive  autocracy  of  his  mother's  Prime  Minister, 
who  seemed  to  be  never  satisfied  with  his  Oriental  vision  of 
British  supremacy  over  other  nations.  And  as  the  Prince 
stood,  with  his  courtiers,  gazing  out  upon  this  brilliant  scene, 
in  the  Place  Vendome,  in  a  certain  sense  a  new  panel  in  the 
great  picture  of  the  French  Exhibition,  he  could  not  sup 
press  the  fear — can  we  say,  terror? — that  when  the  masses 
work  for  their  rights  with  the  weapons  of  reason,  there  is  an 
end  to  privilege  and  to  royal  rule.  On  the  morning  of  that 
day  the  Prince  had  met  Gambetta  at  a  social  breakfast,  as 
he  had  met  him  before,  and  that  civility  had  given  offense 
to  the  Queen  and  to  her  Machiavelian  Premier.  M.  Gam 
betta,  who  was  standing  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Margaret  Harris 
and  Mrs.  Grant,  with  Lady  Blanche  and  Mary  Harris,  and  a 
radiant  bouquet  of  English  and  French  ladies,  in  the  circle 
about  the  American  hostess,  was  no  curled  darling  of  power. 
The  Prince  of  Wales  could  not  make  the  excuse  that  he  had 
been  entertaining  a  diplomate,  an  official,  an  inventor,  an 
owner  of  yachts  and  blooded  horses,  a  republican  Sardana- 
palus,  a  dilettante  reformer,  with  castles  and  millions  at  his 
command.  Gambetta's  mission  was  the  destruction  of  roy- 
alism.  His  purpose  was  the  overthrow  of  caste.  His  faith 
in  the  people  was  complete,  amounting  to  blind  trust.  To 
him  there  could  be  no  religion  of  the  state,  no  class  by  in 
heritance,  no  divine  right,  no  superiority  of  blood  or  name, 
no  peers  that  were  not  made  by  the  intellect,  and  no  aristoc 
racy  but  that  won  by  superior  excellence  and  good  works. 
Nor  did  the  Prince  of  Wales  deceive  himself  by  a  different 
belief.  He  understood  and  respected  democracy  precisely 
as  his  mother  and  her  minister  hated  and  feared  it. 

The  guests  continued  to  pour  into  Mrs.  Harris's  recep 
tion.  Her  husband  was  a  quiet  spectator  of  the  brilliant 
festival,  and  he  pointed  out  the  Prince  of  Wales,  in  the  op 
posite  window,  to  Earl  Dorrington. 

"  The  Prince,  your  lordship,  is  a  willing  witness  to  a  nov 
elty  to-night ;  but  why  should  I  say  so  ?  He  has  been  in  my 
country,  has  met  my  countrymen  in  England  and  here,  and 


340  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

certainly  knows  what  he  is  about.  I  sometimes  think  he  is 
prepared  for  great  changes  even  in  his  own  country,  and  that 
his  frequent  visits  to  Paris  are  rather  errands  for  informa 
tion  than  voyages  of  pleasure.  His  intimacy  with  M.  Gam- 
betta  is  very  manly,  and  means  more  than  princely  courtesy. 

"  You  sincerely  think,"  the  Earl  asked,  in  his  usually  ur 
bane  manner,  "that  political  changes  are  impending?  If 
you  speak  of  permanent  change,  I  am  constrained  to  dissent 
from  you.  Revolutions  there  have  been,  there  will  be,  but 
reaction  is  as  sure  as  revolution.  In  the  madness  of  a  pass 
ing  frenzy  the  mob  may  cut  off  the  head  of  a  Charles  I,  of  a 
Louis  XVI,  but  the  nation  invariably  comes  back  again  to 
order  and  the  lawful  rule  of  king  and  nobles.  At  the  mo 
ment,  we  are  here,"  and  the  Earl  waved  a  dignified  but  some 
what  disdainful  hand  toward  Paris  and  France,  "beneath 
a  republic.  For  how  long  ?  Do  you  chance  to  remember 
how  many  republics  France  has  had  ?  The  number  of  them 
escapes  me  at  this  moment.  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  prefer 
the  everlasting  to  the  mutable,  the  divinely  ordained  domin 
ion  of  legitimate  law  to  the  bubble,  however  it  swells  and 
glitters,  of  evanescent  liberty,  as  it  is  misnamed." 

His  companion  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  Earl,  steadily, 
respectfully,  silently.  He  had  for  him  a  sad  yet  profound 
deference  as  toward  the  living  symbol  of  what  had  been,  and 
for  a  thousand  years,  a  magnificent  and,  upon  the  whole, 
essential  and  beneficent  supremacy.  Mr.  Harris  venerated  the 
Earl  and  all  he  represented  as  one  does  the  colossal  ruins  of 
Karnac  or  Baalbec.  Beneath  the  calm  composure  of  the  old 
aristocrat  there  was,  as  the  American  well  knew,  a  profound 
disquiet,  an  anxious  apprehension  for  what  might  be  coming. 
The  world  would  stand  fast,  the  Earl  believed,  during  his 
own  day,  but  what  would  be  the  chaos  which  might  befall 
his  country,  his  children,  when  he  was  gone  ! 

"  This  is  neither  the  time — this  is  not,"  Mr.  Harris  said  at 
last,  "  the  place,  in  which  I  should  speak  upon  such  topics  ; 
yet,  if  you  will  allow  me —  " 

"  Assuredly  so  ! "  said  the  Earl. 


THE  LAST  DATS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION.        341 

"  What  I  wished  to  state,"  the  old  mechanic  continued, 
"  is  not  theory,  but  fact.  It  was  not  the  Republic,  my  lord,  it 
was  the  theatrical  Empire  of  France  which  plunged  France 
into  war  with  Germany  and  into  the  most  disastrous  defeat 
known  to  history.  It  was  the  Empire  which  forced  it,  as  the 
result,  to  pay  four  billions  of  indemnity  to  Germany.  It 
was  the  Empire  which  made  the  disgraceful  debt ;  it  is  the 
Republic  which  pays  that  debt.  Mr.  Gladstone  well  says 
that  the  way  in  which  America,  France — republics  both — pay 
off  their  national  indebtedness  is  something  unparalleled  in 
the  annals  of  the  race.  France  is  a  Republic  because  Amer 
ica  is  such.  Do  you  know,  my  lord,  why  America  is  becom 
ing  so  rich  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  large  and  fruitful  region,  sir."  It  was  said  with 
great  kindness. 

"The  reason,  my  lord," Mr.  Harris  said,  in  his  steady 
tones,  "is  this  :  in  Europe  millions  of  men,  men  in  the  prime 
of  their  powers,  are  kept  under  arms.  Their  days  are  wasted 
in  drill  or  in  killing  each  other  in  battle.  In  America —  " 

"  War  has  its  advantages,  sir,"  the  Earl  interrupted  him, 
warmly.  "  It  suppresses  indolence,  luxury,  the  mere  shop- 
keeping  baseness  of  sordid  existence.  It  develops,  elevates, 
teaches  manliness,  self-sacrifice,  obedience,  endurance  !  Ter 
rible  as  it  is,  a  corrupting  peace  is  worse  !  " 

"  Very  true,"  Mr.  Harris  assented,  with  energy.  "  But, 
consider  this,  my  lord  :  while  no  man  of  the  fifty  million 
Americans  is  forced  into  the  ranks,  every  soul  of  them  is 
conscripted  instead  into  a  war  which  never  ceases,  a  battle 
which  demands  and  develops  all  the  drill,  discipline,  cour 
age,  manhood  which  is,  as  you  say,  essential  to  a  people.  In 
stead  of  years  wasted  in  waiting,  with  arms  in  our  hands,  for 
the  breaking  out  of  hostilities,  ours  is  a  war  which  knows  no 
truce — it  never  ceases.  But  it  does  not  consist  in  killing  any 
one.  During  every  waking  hour  we  are  attacking  the  im 
measurable  soil  with  plow  and  harrow  ;  we  slay  the  armies 
of  grain  with  swords  which  never  tire  ;  we  use  a  thousand 
times  as  much  powder  as  Europe,  but  it  is  in  blasting  a  path 


342  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

for  ourselves  through  the  mountains,  in  compelling  the  rocks 
to  surrender  their  metals.  Our  strategy  is  exerted  in  a  com 
petition  which  taxes  to  the  utmost  every  faculty.  During  the 
fiercest  campaigns  of  Wellington,  the  gallant  English  never 
toiled,  endured,  dared,  as  your  descendants  are  doing  to-day, 
my  lord,  in  America.  We  disco ver,  invent,  experiment.  In 
educating  our  children,  in  controlling  our  politics  between 
dangerous  extremes,  in  maintaining  a  religion  which  shall  be 
true  to  its  original,  in  assimilating  our  foreign  influx,  in  de 
veloping  art  as  against  mere  money-making — in  too  many 
modes  to  specify,  we  arouse  and  keep  up  almost  to  the  fury  of 
battle  the  utmost  there  is  in  us.  All  the  more,  my  lord,"  Mr. 
Harris  added,  "  that  we  are  warring  in  behalf  of  the  entire 
race,  not  to  feed  it  alone,  not  to  supply  it  only  with  labor- 
saving  machinery.  Napoleon  expended  billions  of  treasure, 
myriads  of  lives— and  for  what  ?  America  has  entered  upon 
its  campaign  against  Europe,  Africa,  Asia,  to  revolutionize  it 
by  saving,  not  slaying.  Our  fields  of  Austerlitz,  of  Water 
loo—" 

Mr.  Harris  paused.  "  I  should  not  have  allowed  myself 
to  speak  so  long.  It  is  because,"  he  said,  "  everything  ap 
pears  to  me,  mechanic  that  I  am,  so  evident,  so  glorious,  be 
cause  so  beneficent  in  our  future.  You  will  excuse  an  Ameri 
can  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  so,  assuredly  so  !  "  The  Earl  was  interested 
beyond  his  wont.  "And  you  are  confident  of  impending 
changes  in  Europe  ?  "  he  asked,  gravely. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  You  remember,"  Mr.  Harris  replied, 
"how  your  own  Beaconsfield  says  :  It  is  the  unexpected  that 
always  takes  place.  The  first  step  will  be  the  disarmament  of 
Europe.  I  know  how  philosophers  like  Von  Moltke,  at  Ber 
lin,  and  Gortchakoff,  of  St.  Petersburg,  laugh  at  such  a  hope, 
and  regard  it  as  chaotic  intoxication  ;  but  these  new  forces 
are  organized  and  organizing,  and  the  fiat  has  gone  forth 
that  kings  must  cease  killing  other  men,  at  least  as  useful  as 
themselves,  or  other  men  will  kill  the  kings.  There  are  two 
tremendous  evils  unsleepingly  engaged  in  watching  each 


THE  LAST  DA  YS  OF  TEE  EXPOSITION.        343 

other,  the  despot  and  his  assassins.  The  one  may  raise  an 
army,  but  the  other  may  do  more  than  twenty  armies.  De 
pend  upon  it,  the  sovereignty,  under  God,  is  in  the  individual, 
educated,  purified  by  suffering,  prepared  for  it.  I  repeat, 
the  empire  of  the  one  ruler  is  over  ;  the  empire  of  the  million 
is  here.  The  future  of  the  race  is,  my  lord,"  Mr.  Harris 
added,  "  in  the  hands  of  your  great  nation  and  mine.  I  stood, 
one  mid-day,  upon  the  center  of  the  suspension  bridge  below 
Niagara,  thinking  how  the  torrent  was  as  that  of  history 
itself  in  its  rush,  its  roar,  most  of  all  in  the  shattering  force 
with  which  it  plunged  at  last  downward  to  perish  upon  the 
rocks  in  the  agonies  of  anarchy  and  chaos.  Then  I  lifted 
my  eyes  to  the  magnificent  rainbow  which  spanned  the 
cataract,  and  how  could  I  help  observing  that,  if  one  end 
rested  upon  the  American,  the  other  was  based  upon  the 
British  soil !  Believe  me,  my  lord,  in  your  country  and 
in  mine  is  the  supreme  promise,  the  sure  hope  of  the 
world  ! "  ±^ 

It  is  unnecessary  to  state  tnat  the  Earl  was  surprised. 
George  Harris  was  cool,  passionless,  and  pale  ;  and  as  the  two 
men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  the  nobleman  seemed  to 
feel  that  the  earnest  language  of  the  American  was  not  a 
paroxysm,  but  an  absolute  principle — a  principle,  too,  which, 
like  the  axioms  of  mathematics,  carries  within  itself  toward 
its  execution  the  omnipotence  of  the  Almighty  Ruler.  Such 
principles  are  the  artillery  which  sweep  the  field  and  inva 
riably  conquer. 

"  I  am  glad,"  Earl  Dorrington  said  to  Lady  Blanche  the 
next  morning,  at  breakfast,  when  speaking  of  his  conversa 
tion  with  Mr.  George  Harris,  "  I  am  glad  that  I  shall  not  live 
to  see,  much  less  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  revolutions  of 
the  future.  I  am  a  very  old  and  obstinate  King  Canute  who, 
seated  on  his  throne  upon  the  edge  of  the  ocean,  sees  the 
Atlantic  tide  coming  in.  The  ocean  may  be  advancing  upon 
us  from  the  American  side  of  the  planet,  may  be  coming  in 
with  flood  sufficient  to  roll  over  us  of  the  Old  World,  but  I 
prefer  being  drowned  to  changing  my  seat.  And  yet  I  am 


THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

glad,"  he  added,  musingly,  "  that  Alfred  and  yourself  will 
live  and  be  actors  in  the  great  future." 

For  some  time  the  Earl  pondered  as  he  sat.  "  If  there  is 
to  be,"  he  said,  after  a  while,  "  a  new  civilization,  it  will  pro 
duce,  rather,  it  will  be  produced,  established,  maintained,  by 
an  order  of  nobles  adapted  to  it.  The  word  aristocracy 
means  no  more  than  the  rule  of  the  best,  the  strongest.  So 
it  ever  has  been,  so  it  will  always  be.  The  old  order  was  by 
the  creation  of  kings,  the  new  may  be  by  the  creation,  who 
can  say  ?  of  the  King  of  kings,  by  the  gift  of  character,  in 
tegrity,  sense,  vigorous  and  original  manhood.  Assuredly 
so  !  There  may  be  a  new  nobility — who  can  read  the  fu 
ture  ?  "  It  was  with  himself  the  aged  peer  was  commun 
ing,  his  head  fallen  upon  his  breast.  There  was  such  dignity 
in  his  aspect  that  Lady  Blanche  murmured  to  herself  :  "  The 
Goths  are  breaking  into  Rome,  and  this  grand  old  father  of 
mine — he  endures  it  as  the  Roman  senators  did  then,  seated 
each  in  his  curule  chair,  undaunted,  unchanged,  unchange 
able." 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

TRANSITION. 


ONE  morning,  some  time  after  Henry  Harris  and  Lord 
Conyngham  had  left  St.  Petersburg  for  Little  Russia,  Zerah 
Atchison  and  his  daughter  were  in  their  studio  together.  Isi 
dore  was  busy  at  a  table  upon  her  designs  for  the  monument 
to  the  Princess  Aura.  Her  father  was  not  at  work.  He  had 
brought  with  him  to  Russia  his  full-length  portrait  of  the 
Delira  of  his  youth,  and  was  now  feasting  his  eyes  on  it  as 
he  sat  in  his  easy-chair,  his  paralyzed  right  arm  supported 
upon  a  pillow  in  his  lap.  He  was  evidently  older  and  feebler. 
Had  he  been  an  ailing  and  only  child,  his  daughter  could  not 
have  looked  at  him  more  often  and  anxiously  as  she  busied 
herself  with  her  work.  If  he  had  become  a  child,  she  had 


TRANSITION.  345 

changed  from  a  child  to  a  woman  of  late,  and  a  very  lovely 
woman,  whose  lithe  form,  pliant  curves,  graceful  ways,  seemed 
to  move  to  music.  But  of  late,  too,  it  was  a  sad  music. 
Evidently  it  was  to  interest  her  father,  to  hide  her  own 
trouble,  that  she  assumed  a  cheerfulness  she  did  not  feel. 

"  You  enjoy  your  picture,"  she  now  said. 

"  Because  it  is  finished,"  he  replied  ;  "  it  is  the  master 
piece  of  my  life  ;  I  will  never  attempt  to  paint  any  more." 

It  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  wonderful  picture.  The  wild 
girl  of  his  early  years  was  alive,  was  breathing,  and  in  gaz 
ing  upon  her  the  old  artist  had  returned  to  his  youth,  and 
was  resting  as  at  the  end  of  a  completed  circle.  The  painter 
had  laid  aside  his  brush,  but  the  critic  remained. 

"  We  were  speaking  of  drapery,"  he  went  on.  "  Always 
remember,  my  child,  that  the  flesh  also  is  but  an  inner  and 
more  closely  fitting  drapery.  What  you  and  I,  Isidore,  strive 
to  attain  is,  as  you  well  know,  the  most  perfect  expression  of 
the  nude.  The  person  is  more  than  what  it  wears,  but  never 
forget  that  it  is  the  person  within  the  outer  person  which  we 
would  express.  It  is  the  soul  itself  which  is  really  the  nude. 
You  pare  away  the  clay,  you  cut  away  the  marble,  to  get  at 
that,  my  child.  Yes,  you  have  well  illustrated  it  by  what 
you  have  said  of  Prince  Kalitzoff,  our  host.  His  gracious 
manners  are  as  much  a  clothing  as  are  his  furs  and  broad 
cloth.  Not  that  he  does  not  have  a  kind,  even  a  noble,  gen 
erous,  and  loving  soul,  but  he  has  been  rich,  powerful,  pros 
perous,  all  his  life.  Were  he,  like  Solomon,  to  write  out  his 
experiences  of  life,  he  also  would  say  that  all  is  vanity  and 
weariness.  He  wears  the  aspect  of  his  earliest  manhood  still, 
but  who  can  fail  to  see  how  disgusted  he  is  ?  Now  that  his 
child  is  dead,  what  has  he  to  live  for  ?  Politics  ?  society  ? 
wealth  ?  all  these  he  has  long  ago  exhausted.  Isidore,"  the 
old  man  added,  "  there  is  but  one  thing  in  the  world  worth 
living  for,  and  that  is — love." 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Achilles  Deschards  was  say 
ing  the  same  thing  in  France  with  dying  lips.  At  last,  is  it 
not  the  verdict  of  the  human  heart  the  world  over  ? 


346  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

"  Even  my  art  is  nothing  to  me  of  late,"  Zerah  Atchison 
continued.  "  I  possess  the  living  image  of  Delira,  but  I  now 
feel  that  she  is  no  longer  alive.  You  know  how  eagerly  I 
hoped  to  have  seen  her  son  and  mine  ;  I  desire  it  no  longer. 
You  are  all  that  is  left  me.  Under  all  his  vesture  of  mere  man 
ner  I  believe  the  Prince  is  sincere."  It  was  added  meaningly. 

"  Dear  father,"  Isidore  left  her  drawings  and  stood  over 
the  old  man,  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  ;  "  it  is  so  sudden  ; 
who  could  have  imagined  such  a  thing  ?  He  is  a  prince, 
please  remember  that ;  not  merely  a  rich  man  with  estates 
and  servants,  not  only  a  Russian — and  a  few  months  ago  the 
very  word  Russia  meant  nothing  to  us  but  Siberia  and 
despotism  and  awful  snow  and  polar  bears — but  he  is  a 
prince  ;  think  of  that,  a  prince  I " 

"  The  Russians  are  not  cold,  like  the  Germans  or  the  Eng 
lish,"  her  father  replied.  "  Although  as  fiery  as  the  Italians, 
more  so  than  the  French,  there  is  a  solid  substance  in  their 
passion.  If  they  are  barbaric  in  their  ways,  sudden  at  times, 
and  violent  as  the  Tartars  from  whom  they  sprang,  they  are 
constant.  See,  for  instance,  how  devoted  our  Prince  is  to  the 
memory  of  his  only  daughter.  Until  he  knew  you,  she  was 
his  one  thought." 

"  But  it  is  like  a  wild  dream  that  he  should  want  me  to 
be  his  wife,"  his  daughter  pleaded.  "  When  we  were  in  Vir 
ginia,  who  could  have  imagined  that  I,  your  little  Isidore, 
would  ever  visit  this  vast,  dreadful  Russia  ?  Even  after  we 
had  lived  in  Paris,  if  anybody  had  said  to  me,  '  You  little 
artist,  take  off  your  calico  apron,  tear  off  your  paper  cap, 
wash  the  clay  from  your  hands,  comb  your  hair,  put  on  your 
best  clothes,  here  is  somebody  who  wants  to  make  you  a  Rus 
sian  princess,'  I  would  have  known  that  whoever  said  it  was 
crazy,  and  so  would  you.  Dear  father,"  and  the  girl  placed 
herself  between  him  and  his  picture,  "  please  take  a  good, 
long  look  at  me,  and  remember  I  am  not  a  princess  ;  I  am 
only  your  poor  little  girl,  Isidore.  What  is  more,  I  do  not 
want  to  be  anything  but  that."  The  tears  rose,  as  she  spoke, 
to  her  eyes. 


TRANSITION.  347 

"  I  acknowledge  that  it  takes  us  both  by  surprise,"  her 
father  replied  ;  "  but  the  Russians  are  not  like  other  people 
any  more  than  are  you  like  other  girls,  my  dear.  As  I  told 
you,  they  are  Tartars  still,  sudden,  violent,  vehement.  You 
remember  the  Prince  told  us  how  his  ancestors  used  to  win 
their  brides." 

"  Yes  ;  the  young  girl  mounted  a  swift  horse,"  Isidore 
laughed,  "  her  lover  another,  and  pursued  her  across  the  im 
measurable  steppes  of  the  Ukraine.  He  had  her  if  he  could 
catch  her  ;  but  I  told  the  Prince  that — " 

"  He  could  never  catch  you  ?  At  least,  it  would  be  like 
you  to  say  so,"  the  old  artist  interrupted.  "My  dear 
child,"  he  began  a  moment  after,  "  let  us  look  our  affairs 
calmly  in  the  face.  Here  we  are  in  the  center  of  Russia, 
far  away  from  everybody.  Apart  from  our  power  as  ar 
tists—" 

"  I  am  not  an  artist,"  his  daughter  broke  in,  almost  vehe 
mently  ;  "  there  is  where  the  Prince  also  is  mistaken.  Say  I 
succeeded  in  making  that  head  of  '  Patience,'  what  did  I  do 
but  simply  copy  your  dear  head?  And  I  could  not  have 
done  that  if  I  had  not  loved  you  so  well.  This  monument 
to  the  young  Princess — even  with  your  help,  I  may  not  suc 
ceed  in  it.  No,  I  am  no  artist ;  at  best  I  am  an  artist  only 
where  I  love." 

"  My  child,"  the  aged  critic  made  answer,  "  the  ideal  head 
of  '  Purpose,'  which  you  made  without  any  help  from  me, 
and  which  Mrs.  Harris  mistook  for  the  portrait  of  her  son,  is 
far  superior  to  that  of  the  'Patience.'  Any  artist  will  tell 
you  that  it  is  a  work  of  astonishing  genius.  Was  that  a 
result  of — " 

"  Love,"  he  would  have  added,  but  that  the  deep  dismay, 
shame,  confusion,  upon  the  face  of  the  young  girl  arrested 
him.  By  a  strong  effort  she  turned  silently  away,  and  began 
again  to  work  at  her  designs. 

"  My  dear,"  urged  her  father,  "  you  are  an  artist  of  the 
highest  genius.  But  how  will  that  help  you  when  I  am 
gone  ?  You  are  here  in  Russia,  far  away  from  every  friend 


348  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

of  your  own  sex — a  young,  beautiful,  unprotected  girl.  Sup 
pose  I  were  to  die — " 

But  Isidore  had  dropped  her  crayons,  had  run  to  his  side, 
had  taken  his  head  in  her  arms,  was  kissing  his  forehead. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  "  she  said,  "  that  would  be  too  dreadful. 
If  you  were  to  die  I  would  go  too.  God  would  not  be  so 
cruel  as  to  leave  me  here  alone — alone.  Oh,  this  horrible 
Russia  !  Why  did  I  come  here  ?  "  And  the  tears  ran  piteously 
down  her  cheeks. 

The  more  agitated  she  became,  the  calmer  grew  the  aspect 
of  her  father.  His  face  took  the  whiteness  as  it  already  had 
the  strength  of  marble  as  he  silently  endured,  for  he  had 
suffered  all  this  in  advance.  "  My  dear,"  he  said,  as  her 
tears  gave  place  to  the  quick  sobs  of  a  child,  "  all  my  life  I 
have  known  of  things  only  as  they  came  to  pass.  Nothing 
has  happened  as  I  expected.  The  great  events  of  life  have 
come  to  me  suddenly,  without  forewarning,  without  time  for 
preparation.  Hence  I  have  learned,  having  done  all  I  could 
do,  to  wait.  When  the  event  befell,  there  was  but  one  thing 
to  do.  That  is  the  benefit  of  not  trying  to  look  into  the 
future  ;  it  merely  embarrasses  and  bewilders  one,  and  all  the 
planning  and  discussion  goes  at  last  for  nothing.  When  the 
hour  strikes,  however  vast,  unexpected,  the  emergency,  there 
remains  but  one  thing  to  be  done.  So  now,  any  day  I  may 
die.  Without  thought  of  such  an  event  on  our  part,  here 
we  are  in  Russia.  Prince  Kalitzoff  has  become  deeply  at 
tached  to  you.  He  is  universally  known  as  one  of  the  noblest, 
sincerest,  most  generous,  of  the  Russian  nobility.  But  he  is 
a  lonely  and  warm-hearted  man,  to  whom  you  have  come,  as 
he  told  me,  like  an  angel  sent  from  God.  I  know  it  is  sud 
den,  very  sudden,  but  he  wishes  to  marry  you." 

"  The  Emperor  will  never  consent,"  began  the  girl.  She 
seemed  bewildered. 

"Prince  Kalitzoff  showed  me  a  letter  from  Alexander 
yesterday.  I  confess  it  surprised  me,  but  the  Emperor  has 
consented.  It  is  with  the  Prince  as  it  was  in  the  instance  of 
Count  Bodisco  in  Washington.  With  Russians,  all  Ameri- 


TRANSITION.  349 

cans  would  seem  to  rank  almost  as  of  the  nobility.  There 
seems  also  to  be  some  special  reason  in  this  case,  I  know  not 
what.  Therefore — " 

"  But  the  Prince  is  of  the  Greek  Church,"  sobbed  the 
frightened  girl,  "  while  I  am — " 

"  The  angels  of  God  are  of  the  most  celestial  religion  of 
all.  At  least,"  her  father  laughed,  "that  is  the  way  the 
Prince  met  that  objection  when  I  urged  it.  But  what  I  was 
trying  to  say,  my  dear,  was  that,  most  unexpectedly,  this 
marriage  comes  to  us  as  the  one  thing,  the  only  thing  to  be 
done.  How  could  I  die,  my  darling,  and  leave  you  alone,  my 
dove,  my  lamb,  in  this  wide,  wild  world  ?  "  The  daughter 
only  clasped  her  arms  more  closely  about  him  and  wept  in 
silence. 

"  And  what  makes  your  path  plainer,"  her  father  con 
tinued,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  is  that  you  have  not  already  given 
your  heart  away.  You  love  no  one."  But  the  aspect  of  the 
old  artist  grew  stern  as  he  added,  "  At  least,  I  am  sure  that 
no  other  man  has  asked  you  to  love  and  to  marry  him.  You 
would  have  told  me,  had  he  done  so." 

He  could  not  help  seeing  how  the  cheek  of  his  child 
glowed  as  he  said  it,  although  her  face  was  almost  hidden  in 
his  bosom.  Yet  he  did  not  need  that  to  teach  him  anything. 
He  knew  her  heart  better  than  she  did  herself. 

But  there  came  at  the  moment  a  knock  upon  the  door. 
Isidore  arose  and  escaped  into  her  own  room  through  an 
other  way,  and  a  servant  came  in  to  request  permission  from 
Prince  Kalitzoff  to  visit  Mr.  Atchison.  Very  soon  the  Prince 
came  in  ;  he  seemed  to  be  holding  himself  under  control,  as 
after  a  few  words  of  salutation  he  said  : 

"  I  fear  I  have  bad  news  for  you  ;  there  has  been  a 
Nihilist  rising  at  Kiev,  in  Little  Russia.  The  city  has  been 
burned  by  the  conspirators,  but  a  number  of  them  have  been 
arrested.  Chief  among  them,  taking,  I  am  astonished  to 
learn,  the  most  active  part  in  firing  the  city,  are  our  friends 
— would  you  believe  it  ? — Mr.  Harris  and  Lord  Conyngham. 
I  knew  them  to  be  daring  and  resolute  young  men,  but  I  had 


350  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

no  idea  that  they  were  emissaries  of  the  revolutionary  so 
cieties.  They  are  lying  in  jail  at  Kiev,  will  be  rapidly  con 
demned,  and  sent  to  Siberia.  I  fear  there  is  nothing  we  can 
do!" 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

STRUGGLE. 

IF  a  quantity  of  straws,  chips,  feathers,  trash  of  any  kind, 
be  scattered  widely  apart  upon  the  surface  of  a  pond,  although 
there  is  no  wind  to  blow,  no  billow  to  heave  them  together, 
in  a  short  time  they  will  be  found  drawn  into  a  mass  by  we 
know  not  what  species  of  magnetism.  Certainly  it  is  so  of 
people.  Apart  even  from  their  own  will,  those  of  a  like 
sort  are  compelled  to  come  together  from  points  however 
widely  separated.  Stranger  still,  there  is  a  certain  concur 
rence  of  events  also.  Similar  events  cluster  as  by  a  univer 
sal  law,  which  groups  into  bunches  the  cherries  of  a  tree,  the 
planets  of  a  system.  So  it  was  in  St.  Petersburg  at  the 
critical  juncture  here  spoken  of. 

When  Prince  Kalitzoff  announced  to  Zerah  Atchison,  as 
related,  the  arrest  of  the  American  engineer  and  his  Eng 
lish  companion,  each  had  reasons  for  an  even  deeper  interest 
in  the  disaster  than  the  other  could  have  imagined. 

"  I  have  already  done  all  in  my  power,"  the  Prince  said,  in 
the  end.  "  Telegrams  have  been  sent  to  Earl  Dorrington  and 
to  the  British  Government  in  regard  to  Lord  Conyngham. 
I  have  telegraphed  to  Mr.  George  Harris  in  France  ;  have 
communicated  with  the  American  Embassy.  I  would  have 
seen  the  Emperor,  but  that  he  is  not  in  the  city.  The  state 
of  things  with  Turkey,  the  possibility  of  the  breaking  out  at 
any  moment  of  war  with  England  and  other  powers,  the 
danger  from  the  Nihilists,  leave  the  Emperor  no  time  for  the 
consideration  of  lesser  matters.  He  is  obliged  to  hurry  here 


STRUGGLE.  351 

and  there  as  affairs  demand.  Our  friends  are  in  serious 
peril." 

"  But  it  is  absurd,"  Mr.  Atchison  reasoned,  "  that  Mr. 
Harris,  that  Lord  Conyngham,  should  be  engaged  in  setting 
fire  to  a  city  !  " 

"  The  Chief  of  Police  assures  me  that  they  were  caught 
in  the  very  act.  There  is  no  telling,"  the  Prince  said,  "  what 
young  men  may  do  in  moments  of  excitement.  Why  should 
they  have  been  in  Kiev  at  all  ?  It  is  out  of  the  track  of 
tourists,  especially  at  this  season  of  the  year — midwinter.  It 
was  rash  to  the  last  degree.  This  is  worse  than  a  political 
affair ;  it  is  arson  ;  it  is  felony  ;  it  is  the  most  frightful  of 
crimes.  How  can  the  Government  of  England  or  America 
protect  its  subjects  when  taken,  red-handed,  in  burning  a 
great  city  ?  Have  you  read,  Mr.  Atchison,  of  the  Siberian 
mines  ?  Except  that  it  is  not  eternal — for  our  friends  could 
not  long  survive — Siberia  is  worse  than  hell." 

The  nobleman  shuddered  as  he  said  it.  There  seemed  to 
be  a  horror  resting  upon  him  ;  a  shadow  cast  over  him  by  a 
something  behind,  and  more  than  the  fate  of  the  adventurous 
young  men.  He  rose  and  sat  down,  walked  up  and  down, 
started  at  every  sound,  looked  fearfully  out,  now  of  one 
window  and  then  of  the  other. 

"  This  magnificent  Prince  is  a  brave  man,"  the  artist  said 
to  himself  ;  "  yet  he  is  as  sympathetic  as  he  is  courageous. 
It  is  that  which  so  agitates  him." 

But  the  artist  was  himself  to  endure  more  than  he  had 
thought.  Through  all  the  conversation  he  had  continued  to 
glance  anxiously  at  the  door  by  which  Isidore  left  the  stu 
dio.  As  soon  as  the  Prince  was  gone  he  hastened  thither, 
pushed  open  the  door,  which  stood  ajar,  and  was  astonished, 
when  he  had  done  so,  to  find  his  daughter  standing  in  the 
center  of  her  room,  dressed  as  for  a  journey. 

"  I  know  all,"  she  interrupted  him,  with  a  countenance 
which  was  so  composed,  it  was  almost  glad.  "  At  first  I 
fainted  a  little — only  a  little  bit,  father.  But  all  that  is  over, 
you  see."  And  she  paused  from  what  seemed  to  be  the  hur- 


352  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ried  packing  of  a  valise  to  say  it.  "  I  did  not  close  the  dooi- 
when  I  ran  in,  and  could  not  help  hearing.  Siberia  !  It  is 
too  horrible  ! " 

Her  face  grew  white  ;  her  eyes  were  closed  to  shut  out 
the  vision  ;  she  shuddered.  Then  she  threw  on  a  shawl  and 
began  to  tie  her  hat  upon  her  head. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "Where  are  you  going  ? "  her 
father  demanded,  trembling  so  greatly  in  his  agitation  that, 
holding  his  paralyzed  arm  in  his  left  hand,  he  sank  into  a 
chair  and  looked  up  at  her  with  a  face  whose  calmness  was 
white  with  fear.  But  his  daughter  did  not  seem  to  have  seen 
him,  even  while  she  talked  with  him,  so  absorbed  was  she  in 
her  preparations.  "  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  the  old  artist 
demanded  again. 

"  Going  !  Where  could  I  go  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  am  going 
to  find  the  Emperor.  Prince  Kalitzoff  said  that  his  Majesty 
was  pleased  with  me  when  I  was  presented  to  him  last  month. 
I  am  going  to  tell  him  that  he — they,  I  mean — had  no  more 
to  do  with  the  Nihilists  than  I  had.  Nihilists,  indeed  !  The 
Emperor  is  not  deranged.  The  idea  of  his  setting  fire — of 
their  setting  fire,  I  mean — to  anything  is  too  absurd  !  When 
I  have  explained  it  to  him,  Alexander  will  laugh  at  the  idea 
and  release  them.  I  hope  he  will  have  the  good  sense  even 
to  apologize  to  him — to  them — for  the  arrest." 

And  the  ardent  girl  hastened  to  and  fro,  opening  and  shut 
ting  drawers,  selecting  this  article  for  her  journey  and  that. 

"My  child,"  exclaimed  the  father,  as  the  whole  truth 
broke  upon  him,  "  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  going  to 
risk.  The  Emperor  is  a  sad,  stern  man.  He  has  been  shot 
at  until  he  is  savage.  Besides,  he  is — " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  a  thousand  emperors  ! "  the  girl 
replied,  lightly — gladly. 

"  But  for  you,  a  young  and  beautiful  woman,  to  go  alone, 
to  risk  yourself — " 

"  God  goes  with  me.  You  would  be  the  first  to  say  so, 
father.  Please  do  not  try  to  stop  me." 

But  even  as  she  said  it  her  eyes  fell  for  the  first  time 


STRUGGLE.  353 

upon  the  old  man.  There  was  that  in  his  face  which  caused 
her  to  hesitate,  to  halt  in  her  packing.  She  glanced  again 
at  him.  There  was  silent  yet  unutterable  entreaty  in  his 
face  ;  but  she  saw  even  more  than  that,  as  in  a  moment  she 
had  cast  aside  her  wrappings,  thrown  off  her  hat,  seated  her 
self  on  the  floor  at  his  feet,  her  head  upon  his  knee.  "  You 
are  right,  father,"  she  said,  simply.  "  My  first  duty  is  to 
you.  I  am  not  going."  But  not  until  then  did  she  give  way 
to  her  weeping  ;  her  high  resolves  melted  like  ice  into  a  flood 
of  tears. 

An  hour  or  two  after  she  was  ready  to  receive  Prince 
Kalitzoff  when  he  called  again.  She  had  become  almost 
stern,  so  cold  and  pallid  was  she  with  suppressed  feeling,  as 
the  three  conversed  in  regard  to  the  dreadful  tidings.  Even 
in  her  distress  Isidore  could  not  understand  why  their  host 
should  seem  to  be  so  deeply  concerned.  She  could  learn 
nothing  from  him  in  regard  to  the  Nihilists.  Of  them  and 
of  their  plans,  their  motives,  he  appeared  to  be  profoundly 
ignorant.  His  conversation  was  concerning  the  American 
and  his  friend.  Nor  could  he  cease  to  speak  of  Siberia. 
There  was  a  terrible  fascination  to  him  in  the  theme. 

"  It  is  twice  as  large  as  Europe,"  he  said,  "  and  is  a  vast 
desert  of  rock  and  snow,  upon  whose  iron  coasts  grind  ice 
bergs  which  never  melt.  Its  three  immense  rivers,  the  Obe, 
the  Yenisei,  the  Lena,  pour  into  the  Arctic  Ocean,  gloomy 
as  the  river  Styx.  And  yet  there  are  twenty-one  volcanoes 
in  Siberia  in  perpetual  eruption — mouths  of  hell !  You  re 
member  that  it  was  discovered  in  the  sixteenth  century  by 
Vassili  Yermak,  an  atrocious  felon,  who  fled  thither  on  ac 
count  of  his  crimes.  It  ought  to  be  called  Scoundrels'  Land. 
More  than  half  the  population  are  those  who  have  been  ex 
iled  there  for  political  or  criminal  offenses,  or  are  the  chil 
dren  of  exiles.  Of  these,  some  are  at  large,  under  the  eye  of 
the  police  ;  some  are  forced  to  work  in  shop  and  field  ;  the 
rest  toil  without  rest  in  the  mines.  It  is  all  the  same,  they 
are  alike  in  hell !  " 

The  Prince  arose  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in 


354  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

strong  excitement.  "I  have  friends  there,"  he  said.  "I 
have  read  of  it.  When  I  was  a  child  I  used  to  dream  of 
Siberia  and  awaken  the  household  with  my  shrieks.  Dante 
falls  short  of  its  horrors  in  his  '  Inferno.'  Your  Milton,  Mr. 
Atchison,  tells  how  the  damned  are  hurried  from  seas  of  fire 
and  plunged  in  oceans,  more  agonizing  still,  of  ice.  That  is 
Siberia.  Death  is  heaven  in  comparison  to  it ! "  And  he 
continued  to  pace  up  and  down. 

"  But  I  came  for  another  object,"  he  said,  after  a  little. 
"In  this  valise,"  and  he  pointed  to  one  which  a  servant  had 
brought  in,  "  is  the  amount  I  shall  be  owing  you  when  the 
cenotaph  to  my  child  is  completed.  I  have  been  seized  with 
the  whim  of  putting  it  in  your  possession  to-night.  The 
amount  is  large,  but  I  love  my  child,  and  have  no  use  for 
wealth  except  for  her  sake,  unless — "  and  he  fastened  his 
eyes  respectfully  but  almost  eagerly  upon  Isidore,  who  was 
seated  beside  her  father.  "  Money,  my  friend,  is,"  he  con 
tinued,  handing  the  key  of  the  valise  to  the  artist,  "  only  less 
than  God.  No  thanks  !  I  am  a  Russian,  and  my  whims 
are  imperious.  But  that  is  the  least  part  of  my  errand.  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  my  importunity,  but,  Miss  Atchison," 
and  he  bowed  with  deference  to  the  shrinking  girl,  "  I  do 
not  intend  to  press  my  suit  too  much  upon  you.  There  are 
reasons  for  it ;  but  if  you  could  gain  your  own  consent  I 
wish  you  could  promise  me  your  hand.  I  can  not  explain, 
but  it  must  be  given,  a  hope  of  it  at  least,  very  soon  if  you 
would  have  me  succeed  in  rescuing  our  young  friends.  No 
one  knows  what  insurrections  may  break  out,  like  a  Siberian 
volcano,  under  our  very  feet,  and  I  desire  to  give  myself  bet 
ter  opportunity  of  caring  for  you.  I  know  how  sudden, 
how  abrupt,  all  this  is.  Young  ladies  should  be  wooed  for 
months,  if  not  for  years.  But  in  Russia,  especially  in  such 
times  as  these — " 

"  Prince,"  Mr.  Atchison  said,  "  please  give  Isidore  and 
myself  time  to  think.  We  are  exhausted,  all  of  us,  by  the 
events  of  to-day.  To-morrow — " 

"  Miss  Isidore  " — Prince  Kalitzoff  seemed  to  have  hardly 


STRUGGLE.  355 

heard  the  father — "  please,"  he  said,  "  do  not  misunderstand 
me.  There  are  reasons.  It  is  not  merely  as  your  lover  I 
speak.  I  would  be  a  brother  to  you — a  friend,  if  you  pre 
fer  it.  I  would  be  as  a  father  to  you  ! "  He  had  taken  her 
hand,  and  was  looking  at  her  more  like  a  suppliant,  magnifi 
cent  as  he  was  in  his  bearing  and  genial  aspect,  than  as  a 
noble.  "  Think  of  it.  I  am  true  as  gold.  And  now,  good 
night ! "  And,  lifting  her  hand  to  his  lips,  he  bowed  and 
left  the  room. 

Father  and  daughter  were  almost  worn  out,  but  they 
conversed  together  long  and  lovingly  before  they  parted  for 
the  night.  Isidore  had  been  his  nurse  for  years,  and  she 
was  glad  afterward  that  she  had  never  tended  him  as  affec 
tionately  as  on  that  evening. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  to  her  at  last,  when  he  was 
comfortably  in  bed  for  the  night,  "  do  not  misunderstand 
our  host.  He  would  not  have  placed  that  money  in  my 
hands,  and  against  my  protest,  too,  unless  he  had  good  rea 
son.  If  we  wait  we  will  understand.  No  gentleman  is 
better  aware  than  he  that  money  should  not  accompany  his 
request  for  your  hand.  He  has  urgent  reason.  Simply 
wait,  and  we  will  know  what  to  do.  Wait ;  that  is  all ; 
wait !  And  now,  remember,  dear,  the  child  that  waits  sleeps. 
Sleep  sweetly,  Isidore  ;  I  am  sure  I  shall." 

Several  times  during  the  night  Isidore  stood  at  her  fa 
ther's  door,  listening.  More  than  once  or  twice  she  crept 
softly  into  his  room,  stooped  over,  and  kissed  him  while  he 
slept.  By  reason  of  her  weariness  she  slept  until  the  sun 
was  high  in  the  heavens  next  morning.  Hastening  with 
many  self-reproaches  to  his  bedside,  she  bent  down  and 
kissed  her  father.  The  patient  face  had  become  marble  in 
deed.  She  had  long  expected  it.  She  was  hardly  surprised. 
Even  in  that  agonizing  instant,  it  was  the  sublime  patience 
of  his  aspect  which  calmed  her.  She  had  long  been  familiar 
with  it,  but  now  it  was  patience  merged  at  last  into  serene 
and  eternal  possession. 


356  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER    LXYI. 

A  RUSSIAN   HOME. 

"  SUEELY  there  never  were  servants  as  attached  to  a  mis 
tress  as  these  seem  to  be  to  me  !  "  Even  in  the  depths  of  her 
grief  the  young  girl,  so  suddenly  orphaned,  could  not  but 
say  it  to  herself.  From  the  day  of  her  first  arrival  the  wo 
men  who  waited  upon  her  had  seemed  to  live  only  to  do  her 
pleasure.  Vadka,  her  little  plump-bodied  maid  ;  Ovalinka, 
the  homely  old  Russian  peasant,  who  brought  in  the  sam 
ovar  and  made  the  queer  dishes  for  her  eating  ;  Catarina, 
who  sewed  for  her,  or  took  the  place  of  a  comely  lay  figure, 
upon  which  Isidore  tried  the  effect  of  draperies  for  her  de 
signs — every  servant  down  to  old  and  ugly  Malashoff,  her 
coachman,  seemed  to  be  devoted  to  her.  It  is  the  redeem 
ing  trait  of  Russian  domestics.  Moreover,  the  young  and 
beautiful  American  had  treated  them  with  such  kindness  as 
they  had  not  before  known.  Even  the  Princess  Aura,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  and  of  whom  they  continually  spoke  as  a 
heavenly  saint,  even  she  had  boxed,  and  very  often,  the  ears 
of  every  one  of  them,  old  Malashoff  included.  They  won 
dered  all  the  more  at  the  fair  girl,  their  new  mistress,  who 
never  asked  or  received  their  service  without  a  smile  of 
thanks  and  a  gentle  word.  "  And  to  think,"  Catarina  often 
said,  "that  Matushka,  our  little  mother,  can  make  blessed 
images  for  our  worship,  and  she  a  woman  too,  only  a  child  ! 
Surely  she  is  herself  very  near  to  God,  our  Maker  ! "  crossing 
herself.  And  now  the  old  father  was  dead !  Even  in  her 
darkest  hours,  during  the  days  which  went  before  the  fune 
ral,  Isidore  was  touched  by  their  affection.  Little  Vadka 
slept  on  the  4oor  beside  her  bed  ;  Catarina  and  Ovalinka 
appeared  never  to  leave  her  during  the  day,  bringing  her 
food,  soothing  her  by  their  tears,  and  by  words  which  she 
understood  without  knowing  their  meaning. 

Nor  could  a  father,  a  brother,  have  been  kinder  to  her 
than  was  her  host.     The  Prince  brought  the  American  Min- 


A  RUSSIAN  HOME.  35Y 

ister  to  see  her,  and  he  was  so  much  interested  that  his  wife 
came  and  insisted  that  Isidore  should  make  her  home  at  the 
embassy,  at  least  for  the  present,  when  the  funeral  was  over. 
There  were  Protestant  clergymen  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  the 
oldest  of  these  conducted  the  service,  which  was  attended 
by  many  American  and  English  people,  by  the  Prince  also 
and  his  immediate  friends.  And  then  the  orphan  was  in 
deed  alone  in  the  world  ! 

A  few  days  after  the  funeral  Prince  Kalitzoff  asked  per 
mission  to  call  upon  her  at  the  house  of  the  American  Minis 
ter.  If  he  had  needed  to  be  more  interested  than  he  already 
was,  the  sight  of  the  poor  girl  in  her  deep  mourning  would 
have  touched  him  to  the  heart.  She  was  pale,  silent ;  but  it 
was  not  of  her  father  alone  that  she  was  thinking.  In  his 
cordial  way  the  Prince  took  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  to  a 
sofa,  spoke  tenderly  of  the  old  artist.  The  Russian  noble 
man  was  a  man,  as  has  been  said,  of  imposing  appearance,  of 
even  haughty  bearing,  but  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  as  he 
dwelt  upon  the  many  happy  and  instructive  hours  he  had 
spent  in  the  society  of  the  deceased.  And  so  he  came  to  the 
chief  object  of  his  visit.  He  would  not  press  her  to  speak, 
but  she  was  now  her  own  mistress  in  every  sense.  The  cir 
cumstances  were  peculiar.  Would  she  not  accept  him  as  her 
husband  ?  His  life  should  be  devoted  to  her.  He  would 
take  no  answer  now,  would  visit  her  again.  After  he  had 
gone  the  American  Minister  and  his  wife  took  occasion  to 
speak  of  the  Prince  in  the  highest  terms.  In  some  way  the 
white-headed  Protestant  pastor,  who  had  buried  her  father, 
knew  of  the  intention  of  Prince  Kalitzoff,  and  he,  in  call 
ing,  spoke  of  the  noble  character  of  the  man,  of  his  gener 
osity  to  the  poor.  No  one  stood  higher  in  Russia. 

When  the  Prince  called  again  the  mind  of  the  girl  was 
clear.  She  seemed  so  strong  and  glad  when  she  welcomed 
him  that  he  felt  assured  of  his  success.  But  he  was  mis 
taken.  Modestly,  but  firmly,  with  thanks  for  his  kindness, 
she  assured  him  that  it  was  impossible.  Her  father  had 
charged  her  to  wait ;  she  had  waited,  and  now  she  knew 


358  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

what  to  do  ;  knew  with  absolute  assurance.  She  spoke  with 
her  clear  eyes  full  in  his.  There  was  such  force  of  simple 
truth  and  sincerity  in  her  whole  manner  that  he  saw  the 
matter  was  ended,  and  turned  from  her  to  the  window  in 
silence. 

"  I  never  knew  how  much  I  lose  in  you,  as  I  do  now,"  he 
said,  slowly,  as  he  came  back  to  her  after  a  long  silence. 
"  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  all  I  might  have  been  to  you. 
Even  now  my  deepest  regret  is  that,  unconsciously,  you 
have  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  help  you  as  to  Mr.  Harris 
and  his  friend." 

While  she  was  wondering  what  he  could  mean,  he  had 
turned  toward  her  his  face,  white,  as  with  an  unspeakable 
anguish,  ghastly  to  behold.  For  a  long  time  he  pleaded  with 
her,  but  it  was  in  vain.  She  was  almost  astonished  at  her 
own  calm  and  final  resolve ;  it  was  fixed  as  if  beyond  her 
own  power  to  change.  The  Prince  read  it  at  last  in  the 
face  which  was  hardening  under  its  tears  into  adamant,  and, 
in  utter  despair,  he  took  a  respectful  leave  of  her,  and  was 
gone.  She  was  to  know  only  too  well  afterward  the  whole 
meaning  of  his  entreaty.  For  political  reasons,  also,  the 
Emperor  had  desired  that  the  marriage  should  take  place. 
The  Prince  was,  in  that  case,  although  he  knew  nothing  of 
it,  to  have  been  sent  as. minister  to  Washington  with  his 
young  bride.  And  why  that  was  a  desirable  thing  Isidore 
learned  from  what  took  place  afterward. 

"  I  have  sad  news  for  you,  Miss  Atchison,"  the  American 
Minister  said  a  few  days  after ;  "  Prince  Kalitzoff  has  been 
sent  to  Siberia." 

The  shock  was  almost  greater  than  the  death  of  her  fa 
ther,  for  that  she  had  expected  somewhat,  and  it  took  some 
days  even  to  believe,  and  then  to  understand  it.  "  I  might 
have  been  more  astonished,"  the  Minister  explained  in  the 
end,  "  if  I  did  not  already  know  how  thoroughly  Nihilism 
has  worked  its  way  up  and  into  the  highest  classes,  as  it  has 
down  and  into  the  lowest.  The  Prince  is  by  no  means  the 
only  instance  in  his  order.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that 


A  RUSSIAN  HOME.  359 

he  is  a  leader  among  the  revolutionists  ;  that  he  has  contrib 
uted  immensely  toward  their  funds  ;  that  frequent  meetings 
of  the  rasJcolinks,  malcontents,  have  been  held  by  night  in 
his  palace.  I  do  not  understand  the  Russian  character,"  the 
Minister  continued  ;  "  under  their  icy  surface  their  blood 
boils  like  the  geysers  of  Iceland,  ready  to  break  forth  at  any 
instant.  The  Prince  was  a  man  of  generous  soul,  and  he 
has  long  groaned  at  the  dreadful  oppression  which  the  Em 
peror  himself  can  not  prevent.  He  is  a  man  of  powerful 
intellect,  of  abundant  leisure,  of  fiery  energy,  and  there  is 
something  in  despotism  which  represses  every  ambition,  un 
til  explosion  is  inevitable.  That  is  the  curse  of  tyranny. 
It  wars  upon  the  deepest  laws  of  the  human  soul.  To-day, 
money  by  millions,  armies  of  soldiers,  myriads  of  police, 
whole  swarms  of  detectives,  are  sleeplessly  employed  against 
the  revolutionists.  These  we  can,  to  some  degree,  see  and 
hear,  but  these  are,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  insufficient  mea 
sure  and  evidence  of  subterranean  and  unseen  forces,  yet 
more  tremendous,  against  which  they  are  contending.  The 
Emperor  was  anxious  to  save  the  Prince  ;  he  wanted  to  send 
him  to  America,  and  thus  out  of  the  way  ;  but  the  facts 
became  known,  and  at  last  he  could  do  nothing.  "We  are 
very  diplomatic,  Miss  Isidore,"  the  statesman  continued, 
"  very  cautious  what  we  say  ;  but  you  are  prudent,  and  I  will 
let  you  into  a  state  secret.  It  is  this  :  of  all  men  in  Russia, 
it  is  Alexander  who  most  feels  and  suffers  from  and  is  most 
helpless  under  the  Empire.  Really,  he  is  the  sincerest  Nihil 
ist  of  all.  Another  secret  is  this  :  a  vast  revolution  is  im 
pending.  Whether  it  is  to  work  slowly,  as  constitutional 
changes  do  in  England,  whether  it  is  to  burst  forth  and  shat 
ter  all  things  to  a  chaos  in  a  worse  fashion  than  in  France, 
who  can  say  ?  " 

"In  other  words,"  Isidore  ventured,  "all  the  world  has 
to  become  like  America  in  the  end." 

"  Yes,  swiftly  or  slowly,  through  horrible  convulsions  or 
peaceful  processes,  all  nations  on  earth  have  to  work  their 
way  out  to  the  same  end.  If  the  miserable  politicians  at 

16 


360  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

home  could  but  know  what  America  already  is  !  what  we 
may  yet  be — "  And  the  astute  statesman  waxed  indignant 
as  he  spoke  at  length  upon  the  sore  subject.  But  Isidore, 
already  exhausted  by  suffering,  hardly  knew  that  he  was 
speaking.  She  was  thinking  of  her  benefactor,  of  his  horror 
of  Siberia.  And  then  she  came  back  to  that  which  had  not 
ceased  to  fill  her  mind — the  fate  of  Mr.  Harris  and  his  friend. 

"  We  have  done  all  we  can,"  her  host  explained  yet  once 
more,  when  he  saw  what  so  occupied  and  distressed  her  ; 
"  all  that  diplomacy  can  do  for  them  has  been  done,  will  be 
done.  The  Government  is  by  no  means  sorry  as  to  Lord 
Conyngham.  You  have  no  idea  how  bitterly  England  is 
hated  just  now  by  the  Russians.  They  are  glad  to  have  an 
English  nobleman  in  their  clutches  to  mortify  the  people 
in  Downing  Street,  to  bring  them  to  their  knees.  Because, 
as  you  observe,  here  is  in  his  instance  a  case  of  Nihilism  of 
the  worst  kind,  of  arson,  which  is  wholesale  murder,  not  of 
Government  officials,  but  of  helpless  women  and  children." 

"  But  Mr.  Harris  is  well  known,  and  he  is  an  American," 
exclaimed  the  eager  girl. 

"  Very  true,  Miss  Isidore  ;  but,"  her  host  remarked,  "  how 
can  they  hold  one  of  the  incendiaries  and  release  the  other  ? 
They  were  arrested  together." 

"  He  is  not — they,  I  mean — are  not  incendiaries  !  "  the 
young  girl  protested.  "  The  very  idea  is  absurd.  That  Mr. 
Harris  should  go  to  Kiev  to  burn  the  property  of — " 

"  Of  course  it  is  absurd ;  but  how  to  prove  it  ?  How 
to  single  these  two  out  and  save  them,  yet  send  the  others 
to  Siberia,  that  is  the  trouble.  I  admire  your  sex  amaz 
ingly,  Miss  Atchison,"  the  diplomate  continued,  with  a  smile 
at  her  impulsive  ardor,  "  but  it  would  never  do  to  make  one 
of  your  lovely  sex  an  ambassador.  You,  for  instance,  would 
plunge  Russia  into  war  with  America  and  England  over 
these  young  gentlemen  in  less  than  a  week.  Provided  Amer 
ica  was  her  ally,  nothing  could  please  England  more.  But 
we  do  not  care  to  please  England,  nor  to  worry  Russia. 
America  has  no  warmer  friend  on  earth  than  Russia,  you 


A  RUSSIAN  HOME.  361 

observe.  She  did  not  hunger  for  our  destruction  during  the 
civil  war." 

"  At  least  I  would  do  something  !  "  Isidore  exclaimed,  with 
her  soul  in  her  eyes.  "  Yes,  and  I  will  do  something !  "  she 
added. 

"Let  me  read  you  a  letter  I  have  just  received,"  was  the 
reply.  "  It  is  from  Mrs.  George  Harris,  in  Paris."  The  Min 
ister  paused,  strangely  impressed  by  the  fire  in  the  tones,  the 
eyes,  of  the  girl.  Then  he  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
said  :  "  Mrs.  Harris  speaks  at  length  of  the  terrible  distress 
into  which  the  family  are  thrown  ;  of  the  efforts  they  have 
made  at  Washington  and  elsewhere  ;  of  the  wrath,  rather 
than  anxiety,  of  Earl  Dorrington  ;  of  the  agony  of  his 
daughter,  and  of  all  that  they  have  done.  But  she  goes  on 
to  say  that  the  Earl  is  confined  to  his  house  by  the  gout. 
"Worse,  Mr.  George  Harris  has  been  so  severely  hurt  while 
superintending  the  erection  of  certain  machinery  in  a  beet- 
sugar  refinery  near  Paris  that  he  can  not  leave  his  rooms, 
nor  can  he  dispense  with  the  attendance  of  his  wife.  Ah, 
here  is  the  part  will  interest  you  most,"  and  he  read  :  " '  Our 
daughter  Mary  insists  upon  hastening,  with  friends  who  go 
there,  to  St.  Petersburg,  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Please 
see  that  she  meets  Miss  Atchison,  the  artist,  who  is  with  her 
father — '  Pardon  me  ! "  the  reader  said,  conscious  of  the 
grief  of  the  orphaned  girl,  "  for  not  leaving  that  out ; "  and 
he  continued  to  read  from  the  letter  :  " '  I  wish  Isidore  and 
Mary  to  consult  with  Prince  Kalitzoff  and  yourself.  No 
time  is  to  be  lost.'  And  here  follows,"  the  Minister  added, 
"  the  most  earnest  entreaty  to  me  to  do  what  I  can.  As  if  I 
needed  entreaty !  The  letter  is  dated  some  days  ago.  I 
would  not  be  surprised  if  Miss  Mary  Harris  were  to  come  at 
any  moment." 

As  he  said  it,  a  servant  handed  him  a  card.  "  She  is  in 
the  reception-room  now,"  the  gentleman  said,  and  Isidore 
arose  and  eagerly  accompanied  him  to  meet  her  friend. 


362  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

IN   PRISON. 

THE  attempt  of  the  Nihilists  to  burn  the  city  of  Kiev 
was  not,  up  to  the  moment  of  the  arrest  of  the  two  friends, 
as  already  related,  wholly  successful.  A  large  part  of  the 
place  was  laid  in  ashes,  but  it  was  not  from  any  lack  of  pur 
pose  upon  the  part  of  the  revolutionists  that  the  entire  town 
had  not  perished. 

"What  in  the  name  of  all  the  devils  in  hell  do  they 
mean  ?  "  Lord  Conyngham  demanded  of  his  companion,  when 
they  found  themselves  alone  at  last  in  their  prison. 

"  Do  you  ask  what  the  authorities  mean  ?  "  replied  the 
American,  who  understood  the  exceeding  peril  in  which  they 
were  far  better  than  did  the  other.  "  They  mean  to  bring 
iis  before  a  military  court  and  send  us  to  Siberia." 

"  They  had  better  try  it !  "  the  nobleman  exclaimed. 
"  As  I  have  already  told  the  old  chap  who  arrested  us,  I  shall 
write  as  soon  as  it  is  light  to  the  *  Times.'  Moreover,  my 
Government  will  interpose  immediately.  Oh,  I  do  not  ob 
ject  !  We  are  on  a  lark  !  It  will  be  something  to  tell  about 
in  the  clubs  when  I  am  back  in  London.  No,  I  meant  what 
do  the  incendiaries  hope  to  gain  by  burning  out  the  very  peo 
ple  they  are  proposing  to  help  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  his  friend  said,  as  he  sat  in  the  straw  beside 
the  other,  "  it  is  best  for  us  to  look  our  situation  squarely  in 
the  face,  and  from  the  outset  my  deepest  regret  is  that  you 
have  insisted  upon  coming  with  me  on  this  expedition.  You 
will  bear  me  witness  that  I  did  my  utmost  to  dissuade  you. 
Had  I  known,  as  I  do  now,  what  the  Crowing  of  the  Red 
Cock  meant,  I  would  not  have  come  myself.  But  that  you 
should  be  involved — " 

"Don't  mention  it,  my  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  the  Eng 
lishman  ;  "I  would  not  have  missed  it  for  the  world." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do  not  realize  how  we  are  placed.  We 
have  been  arrested  in,  apparently,  the  very  act  of  arson.  I 


IN  PBISON'.  363 

do  not  see  how  your  Government  or  mine  can  help  us,  for 
how  can  we  prove  our  innocence  ?  It  was  very  wrong  for  me 
to  come.  At  least,  I  ought  not  to  have  allowed  any  one  to 
accompany  me.  Poor  Toff  ski  !  What  a  horrible  death  !  "  The 
tears  rose  to  the  eyes  of  the  American  as  he  recalled  the 
many  years  of  dogged  fidelity  upon  the  part  of  his  servant. 
Toffski  had  been  to  him  more  like  a  very  large  and  rough 
Newfoundland  dog  than  an  ordinary  servant,  but,  somehow, 
he  thought  of  the  faithful  moujik  the  more  tenderly  on  that 
account.  For  some  time  he  did  not  even  hear  what  the  Eng 
lishman  was  saying.  Like  all  of  his  class  and  blood,  Lord 
Conyngham  was  a  perfectly  brave  man.  And  now,  as  if  he 
were  a  pugilist  going  into  the  prize-ring,  he  had  stripped 
himself,  as  if  unconsciously,  of  the  last  rag  and  shred  of  his 
mere  mannerism.  He  was,  as  it  were,  naked  to  the  girdle, 
and  all  muscle  and  quiet  readiness  for  whatever  might  fol 
low.  He  even  enjoyed  it  thoroughly. 

"But  may  I  be  hanged,"  he  was  saying,  "if  I  can  under 
stand  what  the  socialists  can  gain  by  burning  towns  !  "  for, 
at  that  moment,  the  whole  prison  was  illumined  through  the 
bars  of  their  one  small  window  with  the  glare  of  what  ap 
peared  to  be  a  nearer  and  more  terrible  conflagration. 

"  The  men  who  do  it,"  Henry  Harris  replied,  "  are  des 
perate  rascals  who  have  nothing  to  lose." 

"That's  a  fact  ;  I  remember  reading  about  something 
like  it  at  school.  Sallust  tells  of  the  scoundrels  under  Cati 
line,"  said  the  nobleman,  "  who  went  in  for  a  row  because, 
having  nothing  to  lose,  they  had  at  least  a  chance  of  plun 
der  when  the  scrimmage  began." 

"Another  reason,"  the  American  said,  "  is  that  the  Nihil 
ists  regard  the  entire  civilization  under  which  they  are  forced 
to  live  as  radically  and  thoroughly  and  hopelessly  corrupt. 
That  is  the  meaning  of  their  name.  They  propose  to  make 
a  clean  sweep  of  everything — emperor,  nobility,  army,  church, 
property,  marriage,  society  !  In  their  idea  the  whole  struc 
ture  is  a  vast  but  rotten  affair,  infested  throughout  with 
malaria  and  loathsome  vermin,  and  they  intend  to  bring  it  in 


3G4  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

ashes  to  the  earth,  so  as  to  begin  what  they  call  the  social 
republic  from  the  very  foundations." 

"  Fools  !  as  if,"  the  Englishman  said,  "  there  would  not  be 
the  same  human  nature  in  whatever  they  erected  instead." 

."  That,"  the  American  added,  "  is  what  Ishra  Dhass  was 
always  urging,  only  he  believed  that  the  utter  destruction  of 
the  old  in  order  to  the  creation  of  a  new  civilization  is  by  the 
power  of  the  coming  Christ  dealing  direct  with  the  heart  of 
every  man.  He  is  right !  That  is  American  freedom,  which 
these  madmen  can  not  understand.  But  a  last  reason  why 
some,  at  least,  of  the  Nihilists  turn  incendiaries  is  in  order 
to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  Government.  Since  they 
can  not  fight  it  in  the  field  and  with  cannon,  they  burn  cities 
instead.  They  want  to  compel  the  Czar  to  call  a  convention 
which  shall  make  a  constitution  for  Russia." 

"And  have  his  head  chopped  off  for  his  pains,  as  in  the 
case  of  Louis  XVI.  If  Alexander  has  read  history,  he  will 
see  them  hanged  first.  I  would  ! "  Lord  Conyngham  said. 
"  Hush  !  "  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  like  the  gnawing  of  a  rat,"  his  companion 
suggested. 

"  By  Jove  !  yes.  We  are  going  to  be  burned  out,"  Lord 
Conyngham  added,  gayly.  "  I  don't  blame  the  rats  for  try 
ing  to  escape.  See  how  bright  the  flames  are  getting  !  Can't 
you  invent  a  steam  fire-engine,  old  fellow  ?  " 

But  the  American  had  just  discovered  something  even 
more  important !  He  had  long  known  many  of  the  ways  of 
the  police,  and  in  the  gnawing  sound  he  had  detected  the 
scratching  of  a  pen  in  some  hidden  recess  near  by.  Nothing 
could  have  pleased  him  more  !  Spies  were  listening  to  and 
writing  down  every  word  they  said.  The  Government  would 
learn  what  was  their  real  relation  to  the  Nihilists,  and  he 
continued  to  speak  himself,  encouraging  his  still  more  anti- 
republican  friend  to  speak  in  the  same  line.  At  great  length, 
and  with  the  vehemence  of  his  excitement,  .Lord  Conyng 
ham,  while  the  subdued  gnawing  continued,  broke  into  yet 
louder  and  more  heartfelt  denunciations  of  communism,  de- 


IN  PRISON.  365 

mocracy  even,  in  all  its  forms,  the  Russian  most  of  all.  Had 
he  known  that  it  would  be  of  advantage  to  him,  he  would 
not  have  said  a  word,  would  have  denounced  the  Czar  in 
stead  ;  but  the  American  gave  him  no  hint,  and  even  Earl 
Dorrington  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the  views  of  his 
son. 

Meanwhile,  the  air  grew  so  hot  as  to  be  almost  unendur 
able  ;  the  dungeon  became  as  light  as  day.  When  at  last  it 
seemed  to  the  friends  as  if  they  must  perish,  their  door  was 
thrown  suddenly  open,  a  body  of  soldiers  marched  in,  seized 
upon  them,  hurried  them  out,  and,  leaving  their  prison  to  the 
flames,  rushed  them  along  the  streets  through  the  blazing 
city  to  another  and  stronger  building  in  the  suburbs.  There 
they  left  them  at  last,  lying  exhausted  and  dripping  with 
perspiration,  and  begrimed  with  mire  and  smoke,  upon  the 
floor  of  an  upper  room,  scantily  furnished. 

"  We  would  not  have  been  rescued,"  the  American  ex 
plained  to  his  friend,  "  if  we  had  not  been  such  distinguished 
incendiaries.  Lesser  criminals  would  have  been  left  to 
roast,"  and,  utterly  worn  out,  the  two  stretched  themselves 
upon  the  bare  floor,  and  fell  fast  asleep.  They  needed  no 
covering  ;  the  heat  of  the  burning  city  sufficed.  After  hours 
of  unconsciousness  they  were  awakened  by  the  entrance  of  a 
Cossack,  who  brought  them  black  bread  and  water,  refused 
to  speak,  even  in  answer  to  the  Russian  of  Henry  Harris,  and 
disappeared.  After  they  had  eaten,  they  tried  to  look  out, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  through  the  small  and 
grated  opening,  even  when,  at  his  request,  the  Englishman 
had  climbed  up  for  the  purpose  upon  the  shoulders  of  his 
fellow-prisoner. 

The  fire  seemed,  as  the  day  wore  by,  to  be  subdued  at 
last,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait.  And  thus  day 
after  day  came  and  went.  In  vain  did  the  American  en 
deavor  to  bribe  their  jailer  to  furnish  them  with  pen  and 
paper.  The  Cossack  glanced  at  the  money,  the  watch  held 
out  to  him,  with  keen  and  covetous  eyes,  shook  his  head, 
and  -disappeared.  That  evening  the  friends  were  thor- 


366  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

oughly  searched  and  relieved  of  everything  except  their 
clothing. 

"  At  least,  they  have  not  chained  us,"  the  Englishman 
rejoiced,  "  and  I  rather  like  it,  you  see,"  he  argued,  as  the 
days  went  slowly  by.  "  I  wanted  to  understand  the  case  of 
criminals,  too,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  lower  classes.  Well, 
here  I  am,  a  felon  myself  !  There  is  not  a  dirtier  murderer 
alive,  nor  one  more  thoroughly  uncombed.  Who  could  have 
more  vermin  upon  him  than  I  have  ?  If  any  rascal  in  New 
gate  has  fare  as  hard  to  swallow,  water  as  foul  to  drink, 
smells  as  awful  to  endure,  a  turnkey  tougher  than  our  Cos 
sack,  walls  thicker,  or  a  floor  harder  to  sleep  upon,  I  am  sorry 
for  him.  My  dear  friend,"  he  remarked  to  their  jailer,  who 
came  in  at  the  moment  with  their  repulsive  breakfast,  "  if 
you  love  me,  bring  me  a  clean  shirt,  a  bit  of  soap,  a  tooth 
brush,  a  hot  muffin,  and  a  copy  of  the  '  Morning  Chronicle.' " 
The  face  of  the  Englishman  was  so  bright  as  he  said  it  that 
the  Cossack,  who  did  not  understand  a  syllable,  grinned, 
while  he  shook  his  shock  of  red  hair  and  departed. 

"  Who  cares  !  "  the  English  noble  said.  "  It  is  true,  I 
would  like  a  chop  and  a  comb,  but  I  know  dozens  of  fellows 
who  have  seen  rougher  times  in  the  Crimea,  in  India.  We 
have  men  in  the  clubs  who  are  everlastingly  telling  how  they 
were  wrecked  on  cannibal  islands,  half  eaten  by  lions  in 
Africa,  and  the  like.  Anyhow,  I  feel  more  nearly  of  kin 
to  my  fellow-creatures,  to  the  poorest,  lowest,  most  unfortu 
nate  devil  among  them,  than  in  all  my  life.  Wait  till  I  get 
out.  I  have  material  to  brag  about  till  I  die.  Why  don't 
they  bring  us  to  a  trial  and  be  done  with  it  ?  " 

"  Their  hands  are  too  full  just  now,"  the  American  said. 

He  was  even  more  patient  than  his  companion,  if  not  as 
jolly.  It  was  of  his  mother,  of  his  sister,  he  thought.  Of 
his  father,  too  ;  but,  strange  to  say,  he  thought  most  of  all 
of  the  young  girl  whom  he  had  left  with  Prince  Kalitzoff. 
"  I  wish  the  Prince  had  not  been  quite  so  cordial  in  his  ap 
preciation  of  her,"  he  said  to  himself  ;  "  and  I  hope  she  will 
hear  about  our  trouble  and  write  to  Paris." 


IN  PRISON.  367 

"  Your  sister  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  refuse  me 
now,"  his  companion  said.  "  As  to  the  Earl,  he  will  embrace 
me  and  say,  '  Marry  whom  you  please,  my  boy,  even  if  it 
is  a  republican.'  Blanche  will  acknowledge  that  I  am  some 
what  of  a  hero  at  last.  And  then  I  am  sure  the  '  Times ' 
has  already  published  tremendous  leaders  about  me  ;  it  will 
help  me  in  Parliament  ; "  and  he  whistled  "  God  Save  the 
Queen." 

But  the  days  passed  by.  Then  the  weeks  rolled  on. 
There  was  a  hasty  examination  before  a  military  board  at 
last.  The  American  told  his  story  frankly — who  he  and  his 
friend  were,  how  they  chanced  to  be  in  Kiev  that  disastrous 
night.  His  knowledge  of  Russian  was  a  great  help  to  him, 
but  he  gathered  nothing  from  his  grim  and  formal  judges. 
His  request  for  means  of  writing  Avas  peremptorily  refused. 
Lord  Conyngham,  who  had  assumed  a  haughty  bearing,  was 
treated  with  contemptuous  indifference,  and  the  two  found 
themselves  again  in  their  prison  about  as  they  were  before. 

"  It  is  becoming  somewhat  monotonous,"  the  Englishman 
said  at  last.  "  If  we  could  only  play  billiards,  get  some 
cigars,  or  something  of  the  kind.  I  wonder  how  Lady 
Blanche  likes  it !  The  Earl  never  did  love  the  Russians, 
anyhow.  Barnum  would  rejoice  in  us,  for,  Mr.  Harris,  you 
and  I  are  to-day  the  most  thoroughly  advertised  fellows  in 
England  and  America." 

To  do  him  justice,  ever  since  they  were  arrested,  and 
under  all  his  light  talk  and  almost  reckless  bearing,  the  Eng 
lishman  was  thinking  more  soberly  and  deeply  than  during 
all  his  days  before,  and  every  thought  revolved  about  Mary 
Harris  as  its  center.  It  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  be 
again  the  same  man  he  was  before. 

"  One  thing  is  becoming  very  clear  to  me,"  he  remarked 
one  morning,  "  and  that  is  this  :  when  I  see  how  desperate 
these  Russian  malcontents  are,  I  feel  satisfied  that  those  must 
be  terrible  wrongs  which  goad  them  to  it.  The  worst  and 
most  ignorant  of  any  nation  are  left  to  their  vice  and  igno 
rance  at  the  peril  of  the  rulers,  whose  business  it  is  to  teach 


368  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

and  elevate  as  well  as  to  tax  and  govern  them.  If  I  ever  get 
out—" 

At  that  instant  their  jailer  came  in. 

"  Two  blessed  nuns,"  he  said,  in  Russian,  to  the  Ameri 
can,  "  and  a  son  of  the  stick,  an  accursed  moujik,  have  been 
permitted  to  see  you." 

As  he  said  it,  the  three  thus  designated  came  in. 

"  By  Jove ! "  the  Englishman  said,  but  not  without  a 
pallid  face  and  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart,  as  he  saw  the 
black  drapery  of  the  veiled  nuns  ;  "  it  is  a  military  execution. 
Very  good.  I  had  rather  be  prepared  for  death  by  a  nun 
than  by  a  Russian  priest ! " 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

RESCUE. 

WHEN  the  two  Russian  nuns  and  their  attendant  moujik 
entered  the  room  of  the  prison  in  which  the  American  and 
his  companion  were  confined,  there  was  an  instant  of  sur 
prise.  The  nuns  were  draped  from  head  to  foot  in  black, 
their  faces  hidden  by  hoods  of  crape,  a  cross  of  jet  sus 
pended  by  a  rosary  of  black  beads  completing  their  mourn 
ful  costume,  their  servant  remaining  out  of  sight  behind 
them.  Henry  Harris  knew  from  their  costume  that  these 
nuns  belonged  to  an  Order  devoted  to  hospitals  and  prison 
ers  condemned  to  death,  but  his  sudden  dismay  at  their  com 
ing  in  was  as  nothing  to  the  amazement  which  overwhelmed 
him  when  the  taller  of  the  visitors  lifted  her  hood  and,  re 
vealing  the  face  of  his  sister,  cast  herself  with  tears  and  cries 
°f  joy  upon  his  bosom. 

"  By  Jove  ! "  It  was  all  Lord  Conyngham  could  ex 
claim  before  the  ardent  girl  had  broken  from  her  brother's 
grasp,  and  had  hastened  toward  him,  her  face  wet  with  tears, 
but  radiant  with  joy.  There  was  not  an  instant's  hesitation. 


RESCUE.  369 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  dared  to  do  it,  but  the  Eng 
lishman  had  her  in  his  strong  arms  in  a  moment,  his  own  face 
overflowing  with  joy  and  love.  "  Great  heavens  !  "  he  sud 
denly  cried,  breaking  away  from  her,  "  I'm  too  awfully  dirty 
to  touch  you.  I  hadn't  thought  of  it !  " 

"  No,  you  are  not ;  I  love  you  all  the  more  for  it !  "  Mary 
said  ;  and  the  offense  was  repeated.  Nor  did  he  show  any 
signs  of  letting  her  go  again,  and  for  a  good  long  while  the 
lovers  remained  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  with  kisses  and 
murmurs  of  unspeakable  affection. 

But  the  girl  tore  herself  away  at  last.  "  I  am  ashamed 
of  myself,"  she  said.  "  Alfred,  Henry,  this  is  Isidore." 
Even  from  the  instant  of  recognizing  his  sister,  her  brother 
hj*l  hoped  it  was  the  artist.  In  fact,  he  had  known  it  was 
her ;  but  she  had  shrunk  back,  and  stood  veiled  and  silent 
beside  the  moujik.  "  And  her  father  is  dead,"  Mary  whis 
pered  in  the  same  breath  to  her  brother.  As  Henry  started 
toward  her,  the  girl  had  lifted  her  hood  ;  her  face  was  an 
April  of  tears  and  smiles,  and  her  lover  was  on  the  very  point 
of  taking  her,  as  she  shrank  and  blushed,  into  his  arms. 

It  is  a  harsh  thing,  apparently,  to  say  it,  but  he  did  no 
thing  of  the  kind.  It  was  owing,  in  part,  to  the  unsleeping 
good  judgment  which  he  inherited  from  his  practical  father, 
and  especially  from  his  sensible  mother.  Moreover,  he  had 
been  trained  as  an  engineer.  When  driving  his  locomotive 
sixty  miles  an  hour,  his  eye  had  learned  to  live,  as  it  were, 
along  the  rails  in  advance.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  if  a  spike 
had  started,  a  rail  had  broken,  a  pebble  had  fallen  on  the 
track,  he  would  have  detected  it.  In  that  case,  before  he 
had  time,  as  it  were,  to  think,  he  would  have  acted.  His 
hand  would  have  been  prompt,  and  as  if  in  advance  of  the 
intellect,  to  open  the  valve  which  applied  the  brake,  to  grasp 
the  lever,  and  reverse  the  wheels.  But  this  resulted  from  a 
habit  which  went  before  everything  else — the  habit  of  self- 
control,  instant,  and  under  every  emergency.  So  it  was 
now.  He  had  come  to  love  the  girlish  artist  with  his  whole 
heart.  She  seemed  so  beautiful  in  her  nun's  attire  ;  her  sud- 


370  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

den  orphanage  appealed  so  to  his  pity  ;  the  daring  which  had 
brought  her  with  his  sister  to  his  side  so  awoke  his  admira 
tion  ;  he  was  so  thrilled  by  the  instant  hope,  at  least,  that  it 
was  love  for  him  which  had  caused  her  to  do  it— everything 
aroused  an  affection  in  return  which  really  needed  no  arous 
ing.  But,  even  in  that  supreme  moment,  he  grasped  and 
held  himself,  saying  to  himself :  "  Perhaps  she  has  given  her 
heart  to  Prince  Kalitzoff !  Even  if  she  has  not,  I  can  not 
commit  myself  even  to  her  until  I  have  consulted  my  mother ! 
There  may  be  reasons  ! "  Mary  glanced  at  her  brother.  Even 
in  the  blissful  bewilderment  of  the  moment  she  was  aston 
ished  at  him.  Modest  and  silent  as  the  artist  was,  she  had . 
shown  such  devotion  that  Mary  was  almost  angry  at  her 
brother  for  his  coldness.  All  that  he  did  was  to  take  the 
timid  hand  of  Isidore  in  his,  and  to  thank  her  cordially  for 
coming  with  his  sister. 

"  For  coming  with  me  ! "  Mary  exclaimed.  "  Why, 
Henry,  it  is  Isidore  who  made  me  come  with  her !  It  is  she 
who  planned  everything,  did  everything.  She  it  is — " 

"And  how  did  you  happen  to  arise  from  the  dead?" 
The  words  were  not  addressed  to  her  ;  her  brother  was  glad 
to  interrupt  her,  for  he  had  seized  upon  his  moujik  Toff- 
ski,  now  noticed  for  the  first  time,  who  stood  beside  the 
door  as  if  carved  in  wood,  as  if  he  had  been  born  stand 
ing  there,  would  stand  there  so  long  as  he  lived.  "But 
is  this  Toffski  ?  "  he  added,  looking  at  him  again.  "  You 
are  sure  you  are  not  a  ghost  ?  "  and,  as  the  most  acceptable 
token  to  the  man  of  his  affection,  his  master  gave  him  a  cuff 
which  would  have  knocked  over  any  one  less  squarely  planted 
upon  his  short,  thick  legs.  The  moujik  laughed  with  pleasure. 

"  But  where,  where  is  your  beard  ?  and  your  hair  ? " 
Henry  asked. 

"  If  he  is  a  ghost,  Toffski  is  the  most  useful  ghost  that 
ever  took  bodily  shape  ! "  his  sister  hastened  to  say.  "  When 
he  saw  that  you  and  Alfred  were  arrested,  he  dashed  back 
through  the  burning  house  into  a  back  street — don't  you  see 
how  dreadfully  he  is  burned  ? — and  made  his  escape." 


RESCUE.  371 

His  master  laid  strong  hands  upon  the  man,  and  dragged 
him  forward.  Sure  enough,  his  voluminous  beard  had  been 
singed  away  ;  his  hair  and  eyebrows  had  gone  with  the 
beard.  Toffski  had  never  been  other  than  exceedingly  like 
an  uncommonly  furry  bear,  and  now  it  was  as  if  he  had 
passed  through  the  hands  of  a  Parisian  barber. 

"  He  has  become  positively  handsome,"  Lord  Conyngham 
exclaimed  ;  but  then  clapped  his  hands  to  his  own  beard. 
"  Really,  ladies,"  he  said,  with  something  of  his  old  fastidious 
ness  of  manner,  "  I  am  dreadfully  unfit  to  be  seen  of  any 
body,  much  less  of  you  !  We  are  not  allowed  a  looking- 
glass.  If  we  had  a  razor  we  might  kill  ourselves  or  cut  open 
the  walls  of  our  prison.  Soap  is  contrary  to  the  dogmas  of 
the  Greek  Church.  Please  look  at  us  as  little  as  possible," 
and  he  shrank  back  with  affected  dismay,  but  somehow  he 
took  Mary  with  him  in  his  arms  as  he  did  so. 

"  You  never  looked  so  well  in  your  life,"  she  said,  proudly, 
passing  her  hands  through  his  tangled  hair,  smoothing  down 
his  tumbled  beard,  kissing  him  ;  "  although,"  she  added, 
holding  him  off  from  her  for  a  moment,  "  your  clothing  cer 
tainly  does  look — " 

"  Is  it  not  awful !  "  her  lover  assented  ruefully,  glancing 
down  at  his  tattered  garments,  to  which  the  straw  of  their 
floor  was  clinging.  "If  you  ladies  will  kindly  retire  and 
order  in  a  tailor —  But  you,"  he  said,  with  enthusiasm,  "  you 
look  charming  !  more  so  than  ever  !  If  we  are  to  be  shot, 
you  can  mourn  for  us  most  becomingly.  And  if  we  are  to  be 
married  instead,  you  shall  be  dressed  as  you  now  are.  You 
could  not  look  so  beautiful  in  anything  else."  He  tried  to 
clasp  the  nun  again  to  his  bosom,  but  she  resisted.  All  her 
thought  now  was  for  Isidore.  The  poor  girl  was  standing  off 
to  one  side  by  herself,  pale,  drooping,  bewildered,  ready  almost 
to  fall,  her  hand  grasping  the  serge  sleeve  of  the  moujik. 

"  You  darling  !  "  Mary  exclaimed,  casting  a  reproachful 
glance  at  her  brother,  and  taking  her  companion  to  her 
bosom.  "It  is  to  you  we  owe  everything,  everything ! " 
And,  with  her  arm  about  her  friend,  she  told  their  story. 


372  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

The  news  had  broken  upon  her  in  Paris  of  the  burning  of 
Kiev,  and  of  the  arrest  of  the  daring  investigators  of  Nihil 
ism.  But  Earl  Dorrington  could  not  escape  from  his  gout, 
nor  could  Lady  Blanche  from  her  attendance  upon  him.  "  Is 
it  not  strange  how  things  happen  ?  "  the  excited  girl  contin 
ued  ;  and  she  told  how  her  father  had  received  his  hurt,  not  a 
fatal  one,  however,  in  the  sugar  refinery,  and  how  Mrs.  Harris 
was  kept  in  Paris  to  care  for  him.  Application  on  behalf  of 
the  prisoners  had  been  made  to  the  American  and  British 
governments,  to  the  Ministers  in  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg. 
"But  I  could  not  have  been  held  away  by  chains,"  Mary 
continued.  Then  she  told  of  her  journey  to  St.  Petersburg, 
and  of  the  arrest  of  Prince  Kalitzoff,  at  which  Henry 
Harris  and  his  friend  were  astonished  beyond  measure,  and 
greatly  shocked.  "  I  learned  that  Isidore  was  with  the 
American  Minister,"  Mary  hurried  on,  "and  that  she  had 
already  done  all  she  could.  Oh,  but  we  were  so  glad 
to  see  each  other ! "  and  Mary  embraced  and  kissed  her 
friend.  "  Just  to  think,"  she  went  on,  "  while  we  were  talk 
ing  and  crying  together,  before  we  could  even  begin  to  plan 
what  to  do  next,  who  should  come  in  but  dear  old  Toffski ! 
His  escape  through  the  burning  building  was  the  least  of  his 
adventures.  In  fact,  he  had  escaped  only  to  go  to  St.  Peters 
burg  and  get  help  for  his  master  ;  for,"  Mary  added,  with  a 
saucy  look  at  her  lover,  "  Henry  is  all  Toffski  cares  for.  I 
doubt,  Alfred,  if  he  knows  of  your  existence."  It  was  a  long 
story  of  how  the  moujik  had  begged,  and,  at  times,  fought, 
his  dogged  way  back  to  the  capital.  "  He  got  there  as  by 
the  instinct  of  a  dog,"  Mary  explained,  "and,  oh  !  how  lovely 
his  burned  face  did  seem  !  We  made  him  show  us  the  way 
here,"  she  added. 

But  there  was  a  vast  deal  to  tell  of  their  adventures  upon 
the  very  roundabout  road  by  which  the  girls  had  come,  dis 
guised  as  nuns. 

"  We  had  to  go  to  Moscow  in  search  of  the  Emperor," 
Mary  explained,  and  told  of  their  perilous  wanderings,  Toff 
ski  at  their  heels,  among  the  camps  of  the  army,  day  and 


RESCUE.  373 

night,  through  all  kinds  of  weather.  "  We  had  a  satchel  full 
of  letters  from  the  American  and  British  Ministers,  and  oth 
ers,  in  case  of  need.  It  was  a  sufficient  protection  to  us 
everywhere  that  we  were  taken  for  nuns.  The  Russians 
looked  upon  us,  you  know,  as  if  we  were  angels." 

"Sensible  fellows!  they  were  right!"  interjected  her 
lover. 

"  But,"  Mary  continued,  as  she  embraced  and  kissed  Isi 
dore  in  her  exultation,  "  we  did  not  have  to  use  one  of  our 
letters  at  last ;  Isidore  did  it  all,"  and,  with  a  wrathful  look 
at  her  brother,  the  ardent  girl  took  the  young  artist  again  to 
her  heart. 

Her  brother  grasped  the  little  hand  of  Isidore,  and  lifted 
it  respectfully  to  his  lips.  Lord  Conyngham,  his  arm  about 
Mary,  did  the  same,  with  eager  expressions  of  gratitude,  as 
well  as  reiterated  apologies  for  his  appearance. 

"I  am  so  awfully  ashamed,"  he  said,  with  a  desperate 
motion  of  his  hand  over  his  hair,  "to  be  seen  in  such  a 
plight." 

But  Mary  broke  in  once  more  :  "  We  managed  to  see  the 
Emperor  at  last.  One  morning,  he  had  just  mounted  his 
horse,  when,  after  a  weary  journeying  to  and  fro,  we  found 
him.  I  have  often  seen  him,  but  he  looked  so  sad  and  stern 
that  I  was  afraid  to  speak.  What  do  you  think  Isidore  said 
to  him  the  very  first  thing  ?  "  Mary  went  on  with  enthusiasm. 
"  We  were  led  up  to  him  as  he  sat  on  his  great  horse  in  a 
hurry  to  ride  away,  and  he  towered  above  us  like  a  colossus. 
He  thought  we  were  Russian  nuns.  '  What  do  you  want,  my 
little  pigeons?'  he  said.  Isidore  knew  enough  Russian," 
Mary  added,  "  to  understand  the  phrase.  Would  you  believe 
it,  she  answered  :  '  We  are  not  pigeons,  your  Majesty,  we  are 
ladies,  American  ladies  ! '  She  said  it  in  English,  for  he  un 
derstands  it  perfectly,  and,  O  you  darling  !  "  with  an  embrace 
and  a  shower  of  kisses,  "  you  looked  like  a  queen  when  you 
said  it.  'American  ladies  ?'  Alexander  asked,  looking  down 
at  her.  And  what  do  you  think  Isidore  said  then  ?  "  Mary 
demanded,  with  large  eyes.  "  She  said  :  '  If  your  Majesty 


374-  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

will  be  so  good  as  to  get  off  of  your  horse,  we  can  talk 
to  you  better.  We  are  ladies,  American  ladies.'  You  should 
have  seen  how  surprised  he  was.  He  frowned,  then  smiled, 
then  actually  dismounted.  We  were  sovereigns,  were  his 
equals  ;  being  ladies,  as  well  as  Americans,  we  were  his  supe 
riors,"  Mary  added,  her  head  in  the  air,  her  eyes  glittering. 
"  Oh,  yes,  he  was  glad  to  get  off  his  great  horse  and  listen 
to  us.  I  do  believe  he  would  have  taken  off  his  military  hat 
if  he  could  ;  but,  you  see,"  Mary  added,  with  a  laugh,  "  it 
was  fastened  on  by  a  silver  chain  under  his  chin  ;  he  knew 
he  could  not  get  it  off  if  he  tried.  But  Isidore  was  very  re 
spectful.  It  was  as  if  she  were  talking  to  a  venerated  father, 
and  oh,  how  you  talked,  you  darling  !  " 

"You  did  it  better  than  I,"  the  other  said;  but  she  was 
pale,  almost  listless  ;  her  enthusiasm  seemed  to  have  flown 
for  ever. 

"  I  only  came  in  when  you  had  said  all  that  you  could 
say,"  Mary  remonstrated.  "That  was  enough,  you  know, 
and  the  Emperor  evidently  knew  all  about  it  already.  Some 
report  had  been  made  to  him.  But,  oh  !  if  you  could  have 
seen  Isidore  !  The  Emperor,  grave  and  solemn  as  he  is,  was 
greatly  taken  with  her,  and — " 

"  With  you"  Isidore  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  With  you  both,  and,  by  Jove  !  an  old  bear  as  he  is,  he 
would  be  blind  as  well  as  deaf  if  he  were  not,"  Lord  Con- 
yngham  broke  in,  looking  at  Mary  especially  with  such  ad 
miration  as  brought  the  glad  color  to  her  cheeks. 

"  It  was  Isidore,  Isidore ! "  persisted  the  girl.  "  Do  you 
know,  when  the  Emperor  alluded  to  your  being  incendiaries, 
Isidore  said,  almost  angrily,  '  The  idea  of  his  being  an  in 
cendiary  !  It  is  absurd.'  " 

"  Of  their  being  incendiaries,  dear  ?  "  her  companion  in 
sisted,  blushing  painfully. 

"  No,  no  :  'Of  his  being  an  incendiary  !  Absurd  ! '  That 
is  what  you  said,  and  the  Emperor  almost  laughed  aloud. 
Then  he  looked  at  us  as  a  father  might.  '  I  will  give  orders 
about  it,'  he  said,  bowed  as  a  gentleman  should,  mounted  his 


DAWN  AGAIN.  375 

horse,  and  rode  away.  After  that,"  Mary  added,  "  Toffski 
showed  us  the  way  here.  We  will  tell  you  some  time  all 
about  how  we  traveled  in  telegas,  how  our  tdrantass  broke 
down  once  or  twice  in  the  horrible  roads  ;  but  our  nun's  dress 
helped  us,  and  we  had  money  and  Toffski,  and  here  we  are. 
And,  O  Alfred  !  O  Henry  !  "  she  added,  with  joy,  "  the  com 
mandant  has  already  had  his  orders  from  the  Emperor.  You 
are  free.  But  you  both  owe  it  all  to  Isidore,  Isidore,  you 
darling  !  "  and,  with  an  almost  ferocious  glance  at  her  brother, 
the  excited  girl  took  her  friend  again  to  her  bosom.  The 
heart  of  the  engineer  struggled  within  him  ;  he  longed  to 
clasp  in  his  arms  the  pale  and  lovely  girl.  He  had  almost 
passed  beyond  his  own  control,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
the  Russian  commander  entered  the  room,  an  enormous  doc 
ument  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

DAWN   AGAIN. 

IT  took  but  a  few  days  after  their  rescue  from  the  prison 
at  Kiev  for  Henry  Harris  to  return  to  St.  Petersburg,  ac 
companied  by  Lord  Conyngham,  the  two  fair  rescuers,  and 
their  faithful  moujik.  An  agreeable  surprise  awaited  them 
there.  Mr.  George  Harris  had  recovered  sufficiently  from 
his  hurt  to  travel,  and,  intensely  anxious  as  to  their  son  and 
daughter,  he  and  his  wife  had  come  on  to  the  Russian  capi 
tal.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  with  what  gladness  the  family 
found  themselves  together  again  in  the  rooms  the  father  had 
secured  at  the  Imperial  Hotel.  Almost  before  eating  his 
first  meal,  the  Englishman  had  hurried  to  a  celebrated  tailor, 
and,  by  paying  double  prices,  it  did  not  take  long  to  restore 
him  to  his  former  respectability  of  appearance. 

"  You  looked  better  in  your  rags,"  was  all  the  congratu 
lation  he  received  from  Mary  Harris.  "  If  I  could  but  have 


376  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

had  you  photographed  as  you  and  Henry  were  when  we  first 
found  you  ! " 

"But  why  do  you  still  play  the  nun  and  wear  black?" 
her  lover  asked.  "  Now  that  the  winter  of  our  discontent  is 
past,  I  had  hoped  that  you  would  bloom  out  in  bright  colors, 
the  first  and  fairest  flower  of  the  blessed  summer  which  is 
to  be  ours  hereafter  and  for  ever." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  look  so  homely,"  Mary  began  ;  but 
her  lover  took  effectual  means  to  suppress  the  slander  upon 
the  very  lips  which  uttered  it,  and  Mary  broke  away  from 
him  to  explain  : 

"  It  is  of  Isidore  I  am  thinking  !  Her  father  is  dead,  you 
know.  She  is  alone  in  the  world.  We  did  our  best  to  have 
her  make  her  home  with  us  at  our  hotel,  for  the  present,  at 
least ;  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it.  The  American  Minister 
pressed  her  to  stay  with  them.  But,  no,  she  has  gone  to 
board  at  the  house  of  the  old  clergyman  who  buried  her 
father,  and  who  has  the  best  old  white-haired  wife  in  the 
world.  And  she  is  so  heart-broken  !  How  can  I  dress  in 
bright  colors  while  she  is  in  black  ?  I  am  angry  with 
Henry  !  "  she  added,  with  energy,  for  her  brother  came  in  as 
she  was  saying  it. 

Lord  Conyngham  became  very  grave.  He  understood 
why  Mary  was  angry,  but  he  could  not  understand  why  his 
friend  had  held  himself  almost  coldly  toward  Isidore  At- 
chison.  It  is  his  lingering  devotion,  he  thought,  for  Lady 
Blanche  which  had  come  between  Henry  and  Isidore.  He 
could  not  allude  to  it,  but  he  said  :  "  I  found  letters  awaiting 
me  on  my  arrival.  The  Earl  and  my  sister  have  not  been  un 
easy  about  me.  My  father  wrote  to  the  '  Times '  and  to  the 
Government  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  the  scrape  into  which  I 
had  fallen,  and,  having  done  that,  he  had  not  an  atom  of 
doubt  as  to  the  result.  I  wish  I  had  the  faith  he  has  in  our 
British  lion.  Lady  Blanche,"  the  Englishman  added,  with 
troubled  face,  "  is  about  to  marry  the  Duke  of  Plymouth. 
They  have  gone  back  to  England,  and  I  must  be  there  to 
attend  the  wedding.  The  Duke  is  a  poor  stick,  but,  if 


DAWN  AGAIN.  377 

Blanche  consents,  I  have  no  more  to  say.  Apart  from  the 
bridegroom,"  the  brother  added,  with  something  of  a  gri 
mace,  "  it  is  a  good  match.  Blanche  will  have  rank  to  her 
heart's  content.  It  is  what  she  is  suited  to.  Leaving  her 
husband  out  of  question,  I  think  she  will  find  it  very  pleas 
ant.  A  queer  world  it  is,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Give  her  my  congratulations,"  Mary  said,  but  immedi 
ately  added  :  "  It  is  of  Isidore  I  wanted  to  speak.  Do  you 
know,  she  has  gone  hard  to  work  already  ?  It  is  only  a  day 
or  two  since  we  came,  but  she  is  having  her  room  at  the  old 
clergyman's  fitted  up  already.  When  I  went  there  yester 
day,  she  was  full  of  her  plans.  It  seems  that  the  Prince  has 
left  large  amounts  in  her  father's  hands,  now  in  hers,  toward 
the  monument  for  his  daughter  ;  and  oh  !  is  it  not  sad,  sad  ?  " 

"  The  death  of  Prince  Kalitzoff  ?  Well,"  her  lover  said, 
coolly,  "  if  I  were  on  my  way  to  Siberia,  I  think  I  too  would 
take  the  earliest  moment  to  blow  out  my  brains.  Hurled 
as  he  was  from  the  position  of  a  Prince  to  the  bowels  of  a 
lead  mine,  seven  days'  toil  every  week  with  the  pick,  eternal 
slavery  and  wretchedness,  and  all  as  in  an  hour,  who  can 
blame  him  ?  " 

"  Isidore  is  dreadfully  distressed,"  Mary  continued.  "  The 
Prince  was  the  noblest  of  men,  the  purest  of  patriots,  the 
soul  of  kindness.  She  was  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  even  while  she  was  hard  at  work.  That  is  another 
thing  to  interest  her  in  her  monument  ;  she  intends  to  add 
to  it  now  a  statue  of  the  Prince  in  the  act  of  embracing 
again  his  dead  child.  She  told  me  that  work,  hard  work, 
was  the  one  thing  she  needed.  For  my  part,"  Mary  added, 
almost  bitterly,  "  I  can  not  understand  you  men  !  " 

Her  lover  opened  his  eyes,  but  drew  her  off  to  the  jew 
elers  to  consult  with  reference  to  certain  diamonds  and  other 
gifts  he  was  having  prepared  for  presents  to  his  sister.  His 
own  wedding,  however,  was  the  subject  which  most  inter 
ested  them  both,  and  that  although  Earl  Dorrington  had 
so  far  shown  no  sign  of  yielding  thereto. 

The  first  thing  Henry  Harris  had  said  to  his  mother  when 


378  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

they  were  alone  together  after  his  return  to  St.  Petersburg 
was  in  reference  to  Isidore,  and,  "  I  did  love  Lady  Blanche," 
he  remarked,  in  the  end  ;  "  but  when  I  saw  her  deliberately 
surrender  herself  to  such  a  man  as  the  Duke,  my  whole  soul 
revolted  at  it  and  at  her.  Not  that  I  condemn  her.  "We 
are  too  far  apart  to  understand  each  other,  that  is  all.  She 
is  superb  in  her  way,  but  we  were  born  in  different  planets." 

"  In  different  eras,  you  mean.  My  dear  boy,"  his  wise 
mother  said,  with  a  smile,  "  you  should  have  only  gratitude 
toward  the  Duke.  Lady  Blanche  is  as  superb  a  specimen  of 
the  Englishwoman  as  I  know  ;  beautiful,  highly  cultivated, 
charitable  to  the  poor,  proud,  strong-hearted  ;  but  she  would 
have  made  you  miserable.  You  are  too  much  alike  ;  that  is, 
you  have,  both  of  you,  a  vigorous  will,  a  determined  pur 
pose  ;  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  you  not  to  have 
clashed  ;  your  training,  too,  has  been  so  utterly  unlike.  She 
will  adorn  her  sphere.  That  is  what  she  was  born  into,  pre 
cisely  what  she  is  adapted  to.  If  you  were  entering  into  a 
partnership  to  lead  a  party,  to  manage  a  business,  whatever 
of  money,  rank,  strong  will,  daring  purpose,  each  can  bring 
in,  would  be  so  much  gain.  In  marriage  it  is  different ;  such 
things  are  desirable  in  that  also,  provided  there  be  a  love 
for  each  other  supreme  over  all ;  love  must  be  the  master 
motive,  my  son." 

"And  I  do  love  Isidore  with  all  my  soul,"  he  said  ; 
"that  I  know !  "  for  he  had  told  her  the  whole  story  of  his 
affection  for  the  artist.  "  And  now,  mother — " 

"  There  is  a  change  in  the  world  since  I  was  a  child," 
Mrs.  Harris  mused  aloud.  "  Once  girls  and  boys  fell  in  love 
with  each  other  on  first  sight,  and  married  as  matter  of 
course.  It  was  St.  Valentine's  day  the  year  around,  and 
young  people  mated  as  readily  as  did  the  birds.  ISTow  both 
sexes,  almost  from  their  birth,  are  more  cautious.  Your  fa 
ther  and  I  loved  each  other  on  first  sight,  and  yet  we,  too, 
had  to  reflect,  to  wait,  to  reason  long  and  well,  before  we 
married.  Your  father  says  the  change  these  days  toward 
caution  is  because  people  are  more  practical  than  they  used 


DAWN  AGAIN.  379 

to  be.  Competition  is  fiercer ;  the  standard  of  living  is 
raised,  but  not  the  salary.  Do  you  know,"  she  laughed,  "  he 
thinks  that  the  rage  for  science  and  scientific  results  has  its 
influence  ?  People  are  making  arithmetic  the  law  of  their 
lives.  My  judgment  approves  ;  but,  Henry,  merely  as  a 
woman,  I  declare " — and  the  words  faltered  on  the  lips  of 
the  mother — "  I  do  not  know — " 

"  My  dear  mother,"  he  soon  hastened  to  say,  "  I  believe 
in  love  with  all  my  heart,  but  I  have  to  hold  myself  in  strong 
control.  Besides,  I  was  born  practical,  as  Lady  Blanche  was 
born  noble.  There  was  my  education,  too.  It  takes  inces 
sant  care  to  keep  from  being  crushed  by  machinery  ;  by 
money,  even,  when  it  is  your  own.  People  who  hold  and 
use  power  of  any  sort  leara  to  be  careful  as  well  as  strong. 
But  who  cares  for  all  that  ?  "  he  broke  off  abruptly.  "  The 
only  thing  I  think  of  now  is  Isidore  !  Mary  looks  on  me  as 
a  monster  because  I  have  tried  to  restrain  myself.  Dear 
mother,  I  am  one,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  wanted  to  consult  with 
you  ;  for  if  I  do  not  marry  her  I  marry  no  one.  She  is  the 
loveliest,  most  thoroughly  sensible,  most  charming — "  and 
he  ran  ardently  on  with  fervor  long  suppressed. 

People  thought  Margaret  Harris  cold,  because  she  was 
wise  and  calm  ;  but  she  listened  to  her  son  with  a  new  light 
in  her  eyes,  a  smile  as  when  she  was  a  girl  upon  her  lips. 
"  Let  me  speak  to  your  father  to-night,"  was  all  she  said  at 
last,  and  then  she  changed  the  conversation.  "  To-morrow," 
she  said,  "  I  intend  to  give  you  the  present  I  promised  so 
long  ago  to  the  one  who  found  in  the  Exposition  the  work 
of  art  I  had  preferred.  For  all  these  days  I  have  been  in 
search  of  my  gift.  There  are  many  rare  and  precious  things 
to  be  found  in  St.  Petersburg.  I  think  I  have  selected  it  at 
last." 

She  drove  off  in  her  carriage,  and  her  son  hastened  to  go 
abroad  into  the  city.  Except  during  the  night  and  when  at 
his  meals,  he  could  not  endure  to  remain  in  the  house  ;  it 
seemed  too  much  like  a  prison.  Even  a  tdrantass  confined 
him  too  closely,  and  he  rode  hither  and  thither  on  horseback 


380  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

instead.  He  was  glad  of  the  happiness  of  his  sister  and  her 
lover,  but  he  knew  they  would  rather  be  alone,  and  it  was 
his  mood  to  be  by  himself.  When  he  wearied  of  his  horse 
he  walked.  Up  and  down  the  streets  he  went,  through  the 
great  squares. 

"  I  am  glad,  on  the  whole,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  I 
have  had  a  taste  of  life  in  jail ;  it  enables  me  to  sympathize 
henceforth  and  for  ever  with  all  who  are  imprisoned." 

But  he  could  not  assure  himself  sufficiently  that  he  was, 
indeed,  a  free  man  until  he  had  ascended  to  the  top  of  the 
spires  of  the  Admiralty  Building,  upon  which  he  had  stood 
with  Lord  Conyngham,  looking  down  upon  St.  Petersburg, 
before  their  dangerous  trip  to  hear  the  Crowing  of  the  Red 
Cock.  Once  more  the  great  city  lay  spread  out  before  him 
like  a  living  map.  He  was  glad  that  no  one  was  with  him  ; 
his  sense  of  freedom  was  more  complete  on  that  account. 
For  a  long  time  he  stood  in  absolute  silence,  feeding  upon 
the  vast  panorama  of  palaces  and  hovels,  streets,  squares, 
moving  multitudes.  The  sounds  of  voices,  hurrying  feet, 
rolling  wheels,  came  up  to  him,  blended  into  one  and  softened 
by  the  distance,  like  the  surge  of  a  sea. 

"  Oh,  how  sweet  liberty  is  ! "  he  cried  at  last.  "  I  had  no 
idea  it  was  so  unspeakably  precious  ! "  He  was  like  an 
eagle  long  caged  which  had  broken  loose  and  was  perched 
again  upon  its  native  mountain-top,  and  which  can  not  at 
first  get  enough  of  the  open  sunshine,  of  the  free  air,  of  soar 
ing  through  the  infinite  blue  with  powerful  wing.  The 
young  man  drew  in  deep  breaths  of  the  atmosphere  ;  he  lift 
ed  and  let  fall  his  arms.  But  it  was  not  chiefly  of  his  free 
dom  he  was  thinking. 

"  Be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  are  you 
changed  into  a  spasmodic,  gesticulating  Frenchman  ?  How 
can  I  be  master  of  the  so'rrows  sure  to  befall  me  if  I  do 
not  learn  to  master  my  joys  also  ? "  And  he  grew  more 
sober,  turned,  descended  the  steps,  and  went  gravely  back 
to  his  hotel. 

He  did  not  confess  it  to  himself,  but  the  truth  is,  be- 


DA  WN  AGAIN.  381 

neath  his  gladness  burned  the  flames  of  his  gratitude  and 
love  to  the  fair  girl  who,  at  her  own  peril,  had  hastened  to 
his  rescue  ;  he  thought  of  nothing  but  her.  The  next  morn 
ing  he  was  in  all  the  glow  of  rapturous  anticipations  in  re 
gard  to  Isidore  when  his  mother  came  into  his  room.  She 
refused  to  speak  about  the  artist,  although  eagerly  pressed 
to  do  so  by  her  son. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  and  her  face  had  never  seemed  so 
bright,  "  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  from  the  breakfast  table, 
and  I  am  here  so  early  to  make  sure  of  catching  you  before 
you  go  out.  It  is  a  glorious  day,  and  I  wish  to  make  you 
the  present  I  have  promised  you  so  long." 

At  the  breakfast  table,  under  outward  semblance  of  a 
calm  demeanor,  neither  had  much  appetite  ;  they  were  feed 
ing  instead  on  things  yet  to  be. 

"  At  last  !  And  now  let  us  go,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  as  they 
laid  their  napkins  aside  and  rose  from  the  table.  She  was  as 
eager  as  a  child. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  her  son  consented,  greatly  won 
dering  at  what  she  had  in  view.  "  When  a  thunderstorm  is 
coming  up,"  he  remarked,  with  a  laugh,  "we  can  feel  the 
electricity  in  the  air  before  it  strikes.  Whenever  any  sorrow 
has  struck  me,  it  is  the  same  way ;  for  hours  beforehand  I 
could  feel  it  in  the  very  atmosphere.  It  is  so  this  morning  ; 
something  serious  is  impending,  so  serious  that  I  can  not  tell 
whether  it  is  terribly  bad  or  exceedingly  good.  Let  the 
lightning  strike  ;  I  am  ready  ! " 

Even  as  he  said  it,  an  official  of  the  telegraph  office  put 
in  his  hand  a  telegram.  Excusing  himself  to  his  mother,  he 
tore  it  open  ;  his  color  changed  as  he  read  it. 

"  I  can  not  go  with  you  this  morning,"  he  said,  after  long 
silence,  while  he  read  the  dispatch  over  and  over  again  ;  "nor 
can  I  explain.  This  is  one  of  the  occasions  when  a  son  has 
to  act  without  his  mother.  You  are  the  best  as  well  as  the 
wisest  of  mothers,"  he  added,  as  he  pressed  a  grave  kiss  upon 
her  forehead  ;  "  but  you  must  leave  me  to  myself  for  to 
day." 


382  TEE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

He  left  the  room  as  he  said  it,  and  even  then  it  struck 
Mrs.  Harris  that  she  had  never  before  seen  him  look  so  like 
his  father.  And  even  then  she  was  forced  to  acknowledge 
to  herself,  "  I  know  that  Mary  will  grow  to  be  far  superior 
to  me,  but  I  did  not  know  before  that  Henry  too,  Henry, 
will  be  a  stronger  man  than  his  father  ;  if  possible,  a  nobler 
man." 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

TELEGRAM. 

To  explain  the  telegram  received  by  Henry  Harris,  it  is 
necessary  that  we  should  hasten  to  England,  whither  Earl 
Dorrington  and  his  daughter  had  returned  from  Paris  to 
make  the  final  preparations  for  the  marriage  of  Lady  Blanche 
with  the  Duke  of  Plymouth.  To  almost  every  other  unmar 
ried  woman  in  England  it  would  have  been  the  most  joyful 
of  occasions.  According  to  the  universal  social  estimate,  the 
Duke  was  the  best  match  in  Europe.  The  papers  were  full 
of  it.  There  were  pages  of  statements  concerning  the  an 
tiquity  of  his  family,  his  estates,  his  houses  in  London,  his 
yacht.  There  were  pictures  in  the  pictorial  sheets  of  his 
magnificent  table  services,  his  ancestral  jewels.  Certain  of 
the  more  gossipy  papers  went  so  far  as  to  give  illustrations 
of  the  diamonds  and  other  trousseau  of  the  bride,  and  the 
most  fabulous  stories  were  abroad  as  to  the  wedding  presents 
which  were  in  preparation  for  her  from  the  Queen  and  other 
members  of  the  royal  family.  Moreover,  the  chief  residence 
in  London  was  in  course  of  decoration  for  the  newly  married 
pair,  and  it  was  to  be  on  a  scale,  it  was  said,  of  almost  wicked 
extravagance.  As  the  result,  there  was  hardly  an  unbetrothed 
girl  in  England  who  did  not  envy  Lady  Blanche  with  her 
whole  heart ;  nor  were  pillows  lacking  which  were  wet  with 
bitter  tears  shed  by  some  of  the  weaker  of  them  while  re- 


TELEGRAM.  383 

membering  how  mean  and  obscure  their  own  lives  were  in 
comparison. 

For  some  weeks  now  Earl  Dorrington  had  lived  as  upon 
the  summits  of  things.  With  Lady  Blanche  he  had  been 
distressed  beyond  what  he  allowed  to  manifest  itself  at  the 
peril  of  his  son  in  Russia.  Like  her,  however,  he  was  all  the 
more  proud  of  his  son  for  entering  upon  an  undertaking  so 
daring.  There  was  this  difference  between  father  and  daugh 
ter  :  the  old  Earl  had  faith  so  unbounded  in  the  power  of  his 
Government,  that,  as  has  been  said,  he  had  no  really  serious 
fears  as  to  the  result. 

"  They  dare  not  injure  a  hair  of  Alfred's  head,"  he  re 
marked  over  and  over  again  to  his  daughter,  while  his  son's 
case  seemed  to  be  still  undecided.  "  Were  he  the  humblest 
Englishman,  he  would  have  nothing  to  fear.  And  when  they 
know  who  he  is,  they  will  be  but  too  glad  to  release  him  with 
infinite  apologies.  The  Czar  dare  not  risk  war  with  us  !  I 
have  no  fear  as  to  the  result.  Assuredly  not ! " 

It  was  on  this  account  that  the  Earl  read  to  Lady  Blanche 
the  telegram  announcing  at  last  the  release  of  his  son,  with  a 
grave  rebuke  to  her  for  her  fears.  "  It  is  merely  as  I  said," 
he  reiterated.  "  Russia  dared  not  do  other  than  hasten  to 
let  him  go,  and  you  should  have  believed  what  I  told  you 
from  the  outset.  I  would  like  to  have  seen  them  presume  ! 
Alfred  should  not  have  led  his  young  American  friend  into 
circumstances  so  perilous — ahem  ! — not  perilous  ;  so  compro 
mising,  I  should  say.  Alfred  is  a  man  of  spirit,  more  ven 
turesome  than  I  had  supposed.  I  am  not  sorry  that  young 
Mr.  Harris,  who  seems  to  be  a  really  respectable  and  deserv 
ing  gentleman,  should  have  had  the  guidance  of  Alfred. 
For  once  Mr.  Harris  will  learn  that  England,  at  least,  is 
feared  by  Russia.  It  is  an  excellent  lesson  for  him.  Really, 
we  must  ask  him  to  visit  us  when  we  go  into  the  country. 
Assuredly  so  ! " 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  old  Earl  ascended,  if  possible, 
to  loftier  heights.  Was  not  Blanche  to  be  Duchess  of  Plym 
outh  ?  There  did  not  exist  a  better  father  on  earth.  Nor 
17 


384  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

did  the  Earl  abhor  less  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us  the  abstract 
vices  of  which  the  Duke  had  long  been  guilty.  Had  the 
man,  soon  to  be  the  husband  of  his  daughter,  been  any  other 
than  a  nobleman,  the  Earl  would  have  been  mortally  insulted 
at  his  presuming  to  solicit  an  alliance  with  him.  If  the 
lover,  not  being  noble,  had  possessed  tenfold  the  wealth  he 
did,  it  would  have  made  little  difference.  Would  he  sell  his 
only  daughter,  a  pure  and  high-bred  woman,  for  gold  ?  Per 
ish  the  thought !  But  when  the  worn-out  roue  and  gambler 
was  a  Duke,  the  head  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  Eng 
land — ah,  what  a  difference  it  made  ! 

When  we  strike  our  artesian  iron  down  to  the  solid  facts 
of  the  case,  we  must  agree  that  caste  is  as  strong  in  Eng 
land  as  it  has  ever  been  in  India.  Alas  !  if  we  push  the 
artesian  inquiry  deeper  still,  we  must  agree  that  it  would 
be  precisely  the  same  in  America,  if  circumstances  were  the 
same.  Thank  Heaven  for  our  democracy,  which  originated 
and  exists  apart  from  and  in  spite  of  us  all !  Its  charters 
are  only  less  inspired  than  are  the  pages  of  Scripture  itself, 
and  the  churches  of  Christendom  are  not  more  evidently  up 
held,  and  against  the  vices  and  weaknesses  of  their  own 
membership,  by  a  divine  hand  than  are  the  republics  of  the 
world.  We  exclaim  in  wonder  at  the  starry  worlds,  which 
are  driven  along  the  paths  of  their  inconceivable  grandeur 
and  velocities,  making  music  for  ever  in  their  orbits  about 
the  central  sun.  Who  doubts  that  these  well-ordered  worlds 
were  made  and  are  upheld  of  their  Maker  ?  Even  so,  that 
man  is  a  fool  who  does  not  know  that,  however  men  may  be 
overruled  as  instruments,  this  constellated  republic  of  ours 
is  the  work,  grander  yet,  of  God  himself.  Upon  him,  and 
not  upon  us,  exclusively  depends  its  continuance. 

But  it  is  of  Earl  Dorrington  we  are  speaking.  With  the 
release  of  his  son  and  heir,  and  the  approaching  alliance  of 
his  daughter  with  the  Duke,  he  had  reached  the  highest 
point  in  his  life.  It  was  as  if  he  had  attained  to  the  ever 
lasting  ice,  also,  of  Alpine  summits.  While  always  a  gentle 
man  in  his  bearing  toward  even  the  lowliest,  he  had  now 


TELEGRAM.  385 

become  colder,  statelier,  more  reserved,  more  intensely  the 
aristocrat  than  before.  Not  that  he  was  not  gracious  enough 
in  his  demeanor,  unusually  so,  but  it  was,  more  than  ever, 
the  gracious  condescension  of  a  king.  He  was  uncon 
scious  of  it,  but  even  his  equals  laughed  among  themselves 
about  the  increased  and  almost  portentous  dignity  of  the 
Earl. 

"  It  is  all  very  well  for  him,"  even  so  reticent  a  man  as 
Lord  Derby  was  heard  to  say,  "  and  for  old  noblemen  like 
him  ;  but  we  younger  men  should  know  better.  Look  at 
Disraeli ;  he  is  the  last  man  living  who  should  play  chariot 
eer  just  now.  An  adventurer  like  him,  a  Jew,  fond  of  flash 
and  dash,  is  sure  to  overdo  things.  If  ever  there  was  a  day 
when  we  should  drive  the  old-fashioned  coach  of  state  care 
fully,  it  is  now,  because  it  is  rickety  even  if  it  is  gilded,  and 
we  are  going  so  fast  with  our  imperial  policy  that  I  fear  a 
smash.  Hang  him  !  who  knows  but  that  the  very  object  of 
Dizzy  in  taking  off  the  brakes  and  putting  on  the  lash  is  that 
he  may  demolish  things  ?  It  would  be  just  like  the  sensa- 
tionist  he  is.  I  will  give  him  until  aboiit  the  end  of  Parlia 
ment  in  1880  to  make  a  finish  of  his  tawdry,  un-English 
imperialism." 

As  to  Lady  Blanche,  she  was  not  a  generation  or  so 
younger  than  her  father  for  nothing.  And  what  English 
woman  had  a  clearer  intellect  ?  Nor  was  there  a  warmer 
heart,  in  spite  of  her  rank,  than  hers.  Because  she  re 
garded  Henry  Harris  as  one  of  the  manliest  of  men,  she 
had  first  admired,  then  loved  him.  When,  notwithstand 
ing  his  passion  for  her  in  Paris,  he  had  held  himself  sternly 
aloof  from  her,  she  admired  and  loved  him  so  much  the 
more.  Such  women  love  none  but  strong  men — men  so 
strong  as  to  be  able  to  stand  up  and  hold  their  own  against 
the  woman  herself.  That  he  should  have  traced  Nihilism 
into  its  inmost  lair,  as  a  hunter  follows  a  dangerous  wolf  into 
its  deepest  den,  had  intensely  interested  her  in  him,  and  her 
affection  had  increased  with  her  interest.  When  she  heard 
of  the  capture  of  her  brother  and  Henry,  her  anxiety  had 


386  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

been,  however  she  concealed  it,  for  the  American  chiefly,  for 
she  rated  him  highest  as  well  as  loved  him  most.  With  the 
release  of  the  two  men,  had  come  to  her  a  fever,  almost  of 
joy,  chiefly  on  his  account.  Nor  did  it  diminish  her  admira 
tion  and  love  when  he  did  not  send  her  a  word  thereafter. 
She  was  proud  of  his  pride. 

Who  can  say  what  effect  the  gladness  also  of  her  brother, 
in  view  of  his  hoped-for  marriage  with  Mary  Harris,  had 
upon  his  sensitive  sister,  whose  feelings  were  all  the  stronger 
in  proportion  as  she  had  schooled  herself  to  conceal  them 
under  an  aspect  of  pride?  The  letters  Lord  Conyngham 
wrote  her,  immediately  on  his  return  to  St.  Petersburg  from 
his  prison,  were  as  torches  to  what  was  already  fire.  So  long 
as  the  Earl  held  out,  Lord  Conyngham  could  not  marry  ; 
that,  of  course  ;  and  the  Earl  was  so  much  the  more  of  an 
aristocrat  of  late  that  there  was  less  hope  than  ever  of  his 
yielding.  But,  like  her  brother,  Lady  Blanche  felt  sure  that 
some  day  he  must  yield,  and  their  hope  was  something 
stronger  than  faith — it  was  assurance  itself  ;  because  that 
which  ought  to  be  always  seems  to  be  certain. 

Meanwhile,  the  preparations  were  proceeding  for  her 
marriage  with  the  Duke.  From  morning  till  night,  Lady 
Blanche  lived  in  a  throng  of  milliners,  upholsterers,  jewel 
ers.  As  rarely  as  possible  was  she  with  her  affianced.  It 
was  the  old  story  of  Beauty  and  the  Beast,  except  that  the 
beauty  became  every  day  more  beautiful,  and  the  beast,  to 
her  at  least,  all  the  beastlier.  The  loveliness  of  Lady  Blanche 
was  fed,  as  flowers  are  by  the  furnace-fires  of  hot-houses,  by 
the  hidden  fever  within  her  heart.  She  disliked  the  Duke 
more  and  more.  Anonymous  letters  were  continually  com 
ing  to  her.  Perhaps  they  were  in  some  cases  genuine  ;  in 
others  they  were  dictated,  doubtless,  by  envy,  jealousy, 
devilish  desire  to  mar  a  happiness  which,  to  the  miserable 
and  ignorant  writer,  seemed  to  be  too  great  for  this  world. 
By  whomsoever  written,  they  were  filled  with  tales  of  cheat 
ing  at  cards  by  the  Duke  ;  of  instances  of  cowardice  in  mo 
ments  of  sudden  peril ;  of  insults  patiently  endured  ;  of  se- 


TELEGRAM.  387 

ductions  concealed  by  free  use  of  gold.  They  came  to  her 
from  the  Continent,  from  various  parts  of  London  and  Eng 
land.  People  even  attempted  to  force  their  way  to  her  to 
tell  her  "  things  which  Lady  Blanche  must  be  told  before 
she  marries  the  Duke  of  Plymouth."  If  she  had  loved  the 
Duke,  these  things  would  have  been  less  to  her  than  nothing; 
but,  as  it  was — 

Poor  girl !  Her  brother  was  absent,  her  mother  had  long 
been  dead,  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  trouble  her  father 
with  matters  of  this  kind.  She  had  retinues  of  friends,  but 
there  was  not  one  of  them  to  whom  she  was  not  too  proud  to 
go  for  help.  She  became  pale,  even  while,  with  a  feverish 
color  on  her  cheeks,  she  grew  lovelier  than  ever.  It  was 
impossible  for  her  to  eat,  to  sleep. 

One  day  she  resolved  in  her  desperation  to  make  a  confi 
dant  of  the  Duke  himself.  If  he  was  to  be  her  husband, 
surely  she  should  be  frank  with  him.  When  he  entered  the 
room,  she  compelled  herself  not  to  see  how  weak  and  insig 
nificant  he  was.  She  did  not  know  that  his  Grace  had  all 
along  been  afraid  of  her,  or  rather  she  had  been  too  con 
temptuous  to  think  of  it.  To-day  there  was  that  in  her 
aspect  which  positively  alarmed  him  ;  he  was  thoroughly 
frightened,  in  fact.  Possibly  his  conscience  warned  him 
that  she  might  have  been  told  certain  things.  He  grew  em 
barrassed,  persistently  refused  to  see  what  she  would  be  at, 
stammered,  hesitated,  took  an  earlier  leave  than  he  was  ac 
customed  to  do,  and  she  found  it  impossible  to  force  herself 
to  speak  to  him  as  she  intended  to  do. 

Lady  Blanche  had  lost  much  sleep  ;  her  head  was  dizzy. 
On  going  to  her  room  after  he  left,  she  found  quite  a  long 
letter  from  her  brother,  still  in  St.  Petersburg.  It  was  filled 
with  praises,  as  usual,  of  Henry  Harris,  and  of  his  charming 
sister.  He  was  very  happy.  For  a  moment  the  English 
peeress  lost  herself  ;  she  was  nothing  but  an  English  dairy 
maid.  She  could  not  endure  it.  She  would  act ;  but  it 
should  be,  as  became  her,  boldly.  Rapidly  dressing  herself 
as  plainly  as  possible,  and  throwing  a  thick  veil  over  her 


388  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

walking  hat,  she  had  herself  driven  to  the  nearest  telegraph 
station.  She  was  there  but  a  moment,  and  then  returned  to 
her  house  and  room,  and  lay  waiting  in  an  agony  of  shame, 
gladness,  apprehension,  stupor. 

And  it  was  thus  that  Henry  Harris  came  to  receive  in  St. 
Petersburg  the  telegram  which  had  separated  him  for  the 
time  from  his  mother.  Nitro-glycerine  is  merely  a  transpar 
ent  oil,  and  nothing  could  seem  more  simple  than  the  line 
which  he  repeated  over  and  over  again  when  he  was  by  him 
self.  It  was  from  England,  but  had  neither  date  nor  signa 
ture  ;  it  needed  neither  : 

"  Are  you  of  the  same  mind  and  heart  you  once  were  f  " 

That  was  all,  but  it  was  terrible.  At  the  first  glance  he 
understood  everything.  There  had  been  a  time,  not  so 
long  ago,  when  he  had  admired  and  loved  Lady  Blanche  be 
yond  all  women.  As  he  sat  locked  in  his  room  at  this  su 
preme  crisis  of  his  life,  he  could  recall  every  line  of  her  face, 
every  look  of  her  proud  eyes,  every  tone  of  her  voice.  From 
the  ashes  of  his  heart  the  old  fires  threatened  to  break 
forth  again  with  consuming  power.  He  had  not  whispered 
a  syllable  which  committed  him  to  the  daughter  of  the  artist. 
And  now  this  proud  Englishwoman  had  laid  aside  her  re 
serve,  had  committed  herself  to  his  honor.  She  was  ready  to 
risk  her  father's  anger,  to  break  off  her  brilliant  match — all 
for  him.  He  had  not  imagined  she  had  loved  him  so.  Should 
he  refuse  to  return  such  love  ? 

And  there  was  Isidore,  who  had  risked  what  was  dearer 
to  her  than  life  to  save  him.  He  went  over  every  attribute 
of  her  beauty,  of  her  peculiar,  childlike  charm.  It  was  one 
of  those  times  which  try  a  man  through  every  fiber.  "What 
ever  he  did,  no  human  being  must  know  of  the  telegram 
which  he  was  afraid  to  let  out  of  his  hand. 

And  yet  he  knew  from  the  outset  what  his  answer  must 
be.  None  the  less  as  carefully  as  if  he  had  to  do  with  the 
working  designs,  instead,  of  some  vast  mechanical  work,  he 


TELEGRAM.  339 

slowly  and  deliberately  went  over  the  whole  matter.  When 
the  first  tempest  of  emotion  had  subsided,  he  reviewed  every 
thing  that  could  possibly  be  said  for  and  against,  in  case  of 
Lady  Blanche,  in  case  of  Isidore.  Slowly  but  clearly  he 
worked  out  a  result  which  had  been  from  the  outset  as  much 
the  one  thing  to  do  as  if  it  had  been  merely  a  question  as  to 
what  twice  two  might  be. 

It  was  very,  very  long  before  the  head  could  comprehend 
and  the  heart  could  ratify  what  the  supreme  sense  had 
decreed ;  but  at  last,  when  night  had  fallen,  he  lit  the  gas, 
held  the  telegram  over  it  until  it  fluttered  and  fell  to  the 
floor  a  flake  of  ashes.  Then  he  drew  on  his  hat  and  overcoat 
and  went  steadily  down  stairs,  out  of  the  house  to  the  tele 
graph  station. 

Before  Lady  Blanche  went  to  her  bed  that  night  a  tele 
gram  was  handed  her.  It  was  long  before  she  could  open  it, 
for  upon  it  depended  all  her  after  existence.  She  did  so  at 
last,  but  the  words,  as  she  read  them,  were  merely  as  one 
reads  what  one  has  already  known  by  heart  and  perfectly. 
They  could  be  no  other  : 

"  With  profoundest  respect.  Between  us  alone.  JBut  it 
is  too  late." 

"  But  I  am  glad  I  did  it,"  she  said,  coldly.  "  It  ends  it  !  " 
And  the  dairy-maid  had  become  an  English  lady  of  rank 
again  and  for  the  rest  of  her  days. 

Strange  to  say,  she  undressed  herself  without  a  tremor, 
laid  down,  slept  until  morning,  and  awoke  strong  and  fresh. 
There  could  be  no  more  trouble  about  it  now  ;  nor  was  there. 

Let  it  be  recorded  here,  as  it  has  been  upon  a  thousand 
bloody  fields  of  battle  :  in  woman,  as  in  man,  there  is  nothing 
known  to  the  ages  which  reveals  a  fiber  quite  as  fine  and 
strong  as  English  pluck  ! 


390  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

CHAPTER    LXXI. 

CULMINATION. 

LIKE  Lady  Blanche,  on  the  reception  of  the  reply  to  her 
telegram,  Henry  Harris  felt,  when  he  had  sent  his  message, 
a  sense  of  instant  and  exceeding  relief  ;  for,  like  the  Eng 
lishwoman,  he  knew  that  what  had  been  done  was  the  one 
thing  alone  which  could  or  should  be  done.  The  Duke  of 
Plymouth  was  surprised  and  almost  bewildered  by  the  man 
ner  in  which  he  was  received  by  his  betrothed  the  next  time 
he  called  upon  her.  There  was  in  it  a  gleam  of  reckless 
ness,  of  defiance  almost,  which  he  could  not  understand. 
Henry  Harris  was  calm,  knowing  that  he  had  arrived  at  a 
final  and  just  conclusion,  and  jubilant  too,  since  he  had 
come  to  a  conclusion  also  which  allowed  him  to  give  way 
to  the  deep  affection  for  Isidore  which  had  long  been  kin 
dled  in  his  bosom.  It  was  an  unconscious  uncertainty  still 
in  regard  to  Lady  Blanche  which  had  held  him  in  suspense 
so  long.  That  was  all  past.  He  had  attained  to  certainty 
at  last !  His  was  the  gladness  a  skilled  workman  enjoys 
when  he  has  wrought  out  and  verified  beyond  question  a  prob 
lem  which  had  once  seemed  to  be  impossible  of  solution. 
"  Now  I  know,  and  I  love,"  he  said  to  himself  the  first  thing 
when  he  awoke  next  morning.  "  When  heart  and  head  are 
satisfied,  surely  the  hour  of  action  has  struck,"  and  he  dressed 
himself  with  unusual  care. 

But  his  mother  seated  herself  beside  him  at  their  hotel  table 
before  he  was  done  breakfast.  He  was  always  glad  to  see 
her,  but  he  would  much  rather  have  been  left  to  himself,  for 
he  intended  to  go  as  soon  as  he  could  from  the  table  to  call 
upon  the  woman  he  loved.  It  is  true,  he  had  not  heard  the 
decision  of  his  parents  upon  the  matter,  but  he  felt  sure  of 
that  in  advance.  "  You  look  pale  this  morning,"  his  mother 
said,  as  they  arose  from  the  table  at  last ;  and  at  one  glance 
she  looked  him  through  and  through  as  she  had  done  since 
he  was  a  baby. 


CULMINATION.  391 

"  I  am  very  well,  I  thank  you,"  he  answered,  lifting  to  her 
own  his  eyes  so  full  of  the  gladness  of  certainty  and  expectant 
love  that  the  tears  rose  to  her  own.  For  she  understood  per 
fectly  what  had  happened.  Neither  then,  nor  at  any  time 
thereafter,  was  any  allusion  made  by  either  of  them  to  Lady 
Blanche,  and  yet  Mrs.  Harris  knew,  almost  as  well  as  if  she 
had  seen  it,  that  her  son  had  received  a  telegram  from  the 
proud  Englishwoman.  His  mother  could  have  given  almost 
the  exact  words  in  which  the  betrothed  of  the  Duke  had  tele 
graphed  ;  she  could  have  written  out  almost  word  for  word 
the  message  he  had  sent  in  reply.  The  numerals  of  arithme 
tic  produce  invariably  the  same  results,  however  used,  wheth 
er  in  addition,  subtraction,  multiplication,  division — to  their 
very  decimals  are  they  true  to  themselves  and  to  each  other ; 
and  so  of  human  hearts,  provided  only  they  act  according  to 
the  law  of  eternal  right,  which  is  part  of  their  nature  ;  the 
workings  of  the  heart  as  of  the  intellect  are  as  unswervingly 
the  same  as  mathematics  itself.  Without  a  word  then  or  after 
upon  the  subject,  mother  and  son  knew  and  rested  in  each 
other  as  in  absolute  right  and  certainty,  and  the  peace  thereof 
is  as  that  of  heaven. 

"  No,  I  can  not  let  you  off  ;  you  must  go  with  me  to-day," 
Mrs.  Harris  said  to  her  son.  "  My  present  burns,  I  like  it  so 
well,  in  my  hands,  and  I  must  give  it  to  you  and  be  done 
with  it.  After  that  you  can  go  where  you  please." 

Henry  was  in  no  mood  for  gifts.  He  had  so  long  con 
trolled  his  love  that  it  was  flaming  in  him  now  with  an  almost 
unendurable  impatience  to  declare  itself  ;  but  he  entered  her 
carriage  with  her,  was  driven  he  did  not  care  to  observe  where 
with  her,  but  could  not  conceal  his  surprise  when  the  vehicle 
halted,  at  length,  in  another  part  of  the  city,  and  before  the 
door  of  a  modest-looking  house.  Entering  this  with  her  son, 
she  begged  him  to  wait  for  her  for  a  time  in  the  plain  little 
parlor  while  she  withdrew.  He  strode  up  and  down  the  room. 
He  looked  almost  angrily  at  the  pictures  upon  the  walls. 
What  had  he  to  do  there  when  his  heart  was  with  Isidore  ? 
His  mother  was  trifling  wTith  him.  It  was  easier  to  endure 


392  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

his  jail  at  Kiev  !  What  could  she  me^n  ?  She  was  gone  so 
long  too !  He  looked  at  his  watch  a  dozen  times.  At  last 
he  heard  his  mother  call  him,  standing,  as  she  did  so,  her  face 
flushed  as  from  weeping,  the  door  of  the  room  across  a  hall 
held  half  opened  in  her  hand. 

"  Here  is  my  little  present,"  she  said,  in  a  whisper,  her  face 
all  tears  and  smiles  ;  "  looking  more  beautiful,"  her  son  after 
ward  declared,  "than  I  ever  saw  her." 

In  amazement  he  passed  into  the  room,  not  observing  that 
she  had  passed  out  as  he  did  so,  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 
Henry  Harris,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  lost  his  presence 
of  mind.  On  the  other  side  of  the  room,  apparently  just 
risen  from  her  litter  of  designs  upon  the  table,  dressed  in  black, 
her  face  a  sweet  confusion  of  blushes  and  pallor  and  tears, 
stood  Isidore.  But  the  young  engineer  was,  as  has  been  said, 
prompt  in  times  of  emergency,  and  in  an  instant  he  had  the 
shy  and  trembling  girl  in  his  strong  arms,  pressed  to  his  heart, 
was  devouring  her  with  kisses. 

"  I  have  been  starving  so  long,"  he  explained  to  her  half 
an  hour  later.  There  is  no  telling,  in  fact,  when  he  would 
have  been  satisfied  if  his  sister  had  not  come  running  in. 
Her  mother  had  driven  home,  had  told  her  all,  and,  interrupted 
in  her  conversation  with  her  own  lover,  Mary  understood 
everything  perfectly.  Taking  the  weeping,  radiant  girl  into 
her  own  arms,  she  was  so  overbearing  as  to  give  her  brother 
a  kiss  and  put  him  out  of  the  door.  There  were  not  two  more 
intelligent  and  sensible  girls  alive,  and  yet,  when  the  sisters, 
for  such  they  now  were,  had  the  room  to  themselves,  the  first 
thing  they  did  was  to  have  a  good  long  cry  together. 

"Your  mother  told  me,"  Isidore  said  at  last,  laughing 
through  her  tears,  "  that  I  am  to  consider  myself  a  gift  from 
her  to  Henry,  the  best  gift  she  could  find.  And  she  said 
that  you  have  your  gift  from  her  already." 

"  In  Alfred  ?  Yes,"  Mary  replied,  "  and  we  must  not  let 
them  know,  lest  they  should  be  too  conceited  ;  but  I  am  sure 
we  are,  both  of  us,  satisfied." 

The  next  day  Lord  Conyngham  left  for  England,  and 


CULMINATION.  393 

there  came  within  two  weeks  thereafter  a  description  from 
him  of  the  marriage  of  his  sister  to  the  Duke  of  Plymouth. 
"  She  was  as  beautiful,"  he  said  at  the  end  of  many  pages  to 
Mary,  "  as  a  statue." 

But  a  telegram  came  even  while  the  letter  was  being  read. 
Earl  Dorrington  had  died  a  few  days  after  the  ceremony. 
He  had  been  long  a  victim  to  heart  disease  as  well  as  gout ; 
the  excitement  had  been  too  much  for  him.  Immediately 
after  the  funeral  Lord  Conyngham  came  to  St.  Petersburg, 
but  he  was  Lord  Conyngham  no  more.  As  Earl  Dorrington 
he  had  become  a  graver,  more  sedate  man. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  Mary,  almost  at  their  first 
interview,  "  Blanche  is  eager  we  should  marry  ?  I  do  not 
understand  women.  She  is  positively  eager  for  it.  The 
Duke,  poor  fellow  !  is  very  proud  of  her,  but,  unless  I  am  mis 
taken,  he  is  terribly  afraid  of  her,  too.  Yes,  she  sends  her 
dearest  love  with  this  letter,"  and  Mary  was  surprised  at  the 
ardor  with  which  the  Duchess  of  Plymouth  wrote,  entreating 
her  to  yield  to  the  addresses  of  her  brother. 

But  months  had  to  pass,  long  months,  before  the  marriage 
could  take  place.  Not  a  week  before  the  ceremony  the  new 
Earl,  who  had  been  going  between  England  and  Russia  con 
tinually,  received  in  St.  Petersburg  a  letter  which  he  read  to 
Mary. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  understand  Blanche,"  he 
groaned.  "She  had  fully  determined  to  bring  the  Duke 
over  to  our  wedding.  Now  she  sends  her  presents,  and  says 
it  will  be  impossible.  I  am  sure  she  loves  you,  is  delighted 
with  our  marriage.  What  can  she  mean  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  Mary  said,  quietly,  and  added  no 
more.  But  she  was  mistaken. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  her  wiser  mother  explained  to  her  that 
night.  "  You  are  right  in  supposing  that  Blanche  can  not 
endure  to  contrast  her  married  estate  with  that  of  yourself 
and  the  Earl.  But  she  has  learned  that  Henry  and  Isidore 
are  to  be  married  at  the  same  time.  There  are  things,  my 
child,  concerning  which  it  is  best  not  even  to  make  a  con- 


394:  THE  NEW  NOBILITY. 

jecture,"  and  she  changed  the  topic.  "  Henry  has  not  told 
Isidore  in  regard  to  her  half  brother,"  she  said.  "  He  was 
glad  that  he  had  said  nothing  of  Deschards  to  his  father. 
Both  are  dead.  It  is  better  as  it  is,  and  I  am  glad  that 
Isidore,  dear  child  !  has  made  such  a  success  of  her  work  in 
memory  of  Prince  Kalitzoff  and  his  daughter.  She  was  re 
solved  to  finish  that  first,  you  know.  They  are  singularly 
adapted  to  each  other,  Henry  and  herself,  and  so  are  you  and 
your  lover.  Both  of  my  sons  are  to  have  noble  careers,"  the 
mother  said,  smiling,  "but  they  will  owe  most  of  their  suc 
cess  to  women.  The  question,  my  child,  is  not  one  of  pov 
erty  or  wealth,  of  plebeian  or  noble,  of  England  or  America — 
when  a  man  and  woman,  as  in  the  case  of  your  father  and 
myself,  as  in  the  case  of  yourself  and  your  lover,  of  Henry  and 
Isidore,  are  found,  after  full  trial,  to  be  thoroughly  essential 
to  each  other — it  is  then  that  they  will  possess  paradise,  for 
then  will  they  be  wedded  together,  as  Adam  and  Eve  were, 
by  their  Maker  himself." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  the  brilliant  double  wedding, 
to  which  Ellen  Ellsworth  and  Virginia  Jossellyn  came  on 
from  Paris  to  assist  as  bridesmaids,  and  at  which  George 
Harris  and  his  wife  seemed  to  be  in  the  sober  joy  of  their 
hearts  almost  as  young  as  their  children.  A  full  account  was 
published  at  the  time  in  the  St.  Petersburg  "  Golos,"  and  so 
generally  copied  therefrom  into  the  journals  of  Europe  and 
America  that  the  reader  could  not  have  escaped  seeing  it  at 
the  time.  If  it  is  needed,  he  will  recall  it  by  the  mention 
made  in  the  descriptions  of  the  magnificent  gifts  pi'esented  to 
the  couples  by  the  Emperor,  who  sent  an  aide-de-camp  to 
represent  him  at  the  ceremony. 

Invitations  were  sent  to  Ishra  Dhass  and  to  Hop  Fun. 
The  former,  however,  had  left  Paris  for  India,  whence  he 
wrote  a  letter  of  joyous  congratulation,  with  descriptions  of 
his  great  and  successful  work  as  a  missionary  among  his  coun 
trymen.  Hop  Fun  was  in  the  act  of  returning  to  China,  and 
he  sent  his  cards  of  congratulation.  Each  of  these  was  two 
feet  square,  and  gorgeously  inscribed  in  letters  of  purple  and 


CULMINATION.  395 

green  and  gold.  Henry  Harris  went  to  the  trouble  of  hav 
ing  the  Chinese  characters  translated.  In  addition  to  the 
name  and  titles  of  the  Mandarin,  there  ran  down  the  side  of 
each  card  an  inscription.  Upon  that  sent  to  Earl  Dorring- 
ton  it  was  :  "  Kong-fu-tse  says,  He  who  marries  a  queen  be 
comes  himself  a  king."  "Which,"  Earl  Dorrington  assented, 
with  a  bow  to  his  courtiers,  "  is  assuredly  so  !  What  a  sen 
sible  wooden-headed  beggar  he  is  ! " 

"  Mine  is  better  still,"  Henry  Harris  exclaimed  ;  "  it  reads  : 
'  Kong-fu-tse  says,  He  who  has  love  can  do  without  rice ' ; 
that  is,  he  who  has  love  has  everything  !  And  it  is  a  fact, 
is  it  not,  Isidore  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  very  practical  man,"  George  Harris  added,  and 
he  took  his  comely  wife  by  the  hand  and  looked  with  sober 
happiness  upon  his  four  children  ;  "  I  am  a  machinist,  and  one 
who  has  seen  a  good  deal  of  almost  the  whole  world,  and  I 
know  something  of  the  value  of  position,  talent,  money,  and 
all  that ;  yet  I  can  assure  you  that,  at  last,  the  only  thing  in 
this  world  worth  living  for  is  to  labor  faithfully  in  the  work 
given  us  to  do,  and — " 

"  To  love,"  his  wife  added  for  him,  smiling  through  her 
happy  tears. 

"  Yes,"  her  husband  assented  gravely,  "  and  to  love." 


THE   END. 


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POVERINA.  An  Italian  Story.  Appletons'  "  New  Handy- Volume  Series." 
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ENDYMION 

A    NOVEL. 

By  the  Rt.  Hon.  BENJAMIN  DISRAELI,  Earl  of  Beaconsfield,  K.  G., 

AUTHOR   OF    "  LOTHAIR,"   ETC.,    ETC. 


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ing  order." — New  York  Sun. 

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terization  and  the  epigrammatic  brilliancy  of  the  dialogue." — Philadelphia 
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UNCLE  REMUS: 

His   Songs  and   His  Sayings. 

THE  FOLK-LORE   OF  THE  OLD  PLANTATION. 

By  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS. 


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told  by  a  typical  old  colored  man  to  a  child,  or  as  a  valuable  contribution 
to  our  somewhat  meager  folk-lore.  ...  To  Northern  readers  the  story 
of  Brer  (Brother — Brudder)  Rabbit  may  be  novel.  To  those  familiar 
with  plantation  life,  who  have  listened  to  these  quaint  old  stories,  who 
have  still  tender  reminiscences  of  some  good  old  mauma  who  told  these 
wondrous  adventures  to  them  when  they  were  children,  Brer  Rabbit,  the 
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"  Uncle  Remus's  sayings  on  current  happenings  are  very  shrewd  and 
bright,  and  the  plantation  and  revival  songs  are  choice  specimens  of  their 
sort." — Boston  Journal. 


Well  illustrated  from  Drawings  by  F.  S.  Church,  whose  humorous  ani 
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UCSOUTHERNREGONAUB^ACILjV 


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